


Dead On Arrival

by Katraa



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Dirty Dancing, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Grinding, M/M, Rating May Change, Torture, and drugs and alcohol, and pancakes, boys unable to express themselves, brats being brats, drunk makeouts, lots of fighting and swearing, lots of unresolved sexual tension, punks being punks, sober makeouts too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:18:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katraa/pseuds/Katraa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misery always loved company.  So what was the worst that could happen? Apparently a lot when two rhyme obsessed train wrecks crash into one another.  At least there were pancakes.</p><p>(sly blue era au fic) - part one (complete), part two beginning!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fame < Infamy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sirenalley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenalley/gifts).



> noiz/sly blue fic following their odd relationship had they met before??? because the world needs more and yeah. also FOB title ofc.
> 
> happy valentine's day c:

There were was a little saying about how trouble always seemed to come knocking. 

There was something mesmerizing about the way imitation maple syrup dripped slowly off the end of his fork. Maybe it was because he had just been in a squabble with three Rib players down at the corner two blocks away and he had barely gotten away without dying, again. Or maybe it was because he was usually captivated by the smallest of things. Probably because he didn't understand them and yet felt an odd connection to them. 

Either way, there was a plate of steaming pancakes in front of him, doused in hideous amounts of syrup. Scattered along the edges of the plate were candied fruits, now syrup-drenched. 

He was seated at a booth in a rather sketchy diner down at the edge of Platinum Jail. Rather, where the District ended and the enormous walls of the Jail reached up to kiss the heavens. The diner wasn't too notable. It was around one in the morning and apart from the overworked waitress who was playing with her phone, Noiz was the only other inhabitant. 

At least until quite literally fell through the front door. Nearly broke the glass of the door, too. 

Face planted into the messy tile flooring was a punk just a little older than him. Unruly, long blue hair curled around him, getting caught up in his jacket and hood. He didn't say anything at first and Noiz's attention was almost lost entirely until a loud groan ripped from the stranger. 

"Fuckers," he hissed out against the tile, arms weakly pushing himself up onto his ass. 

Noiz eyed him wearily from afar, nose twitching at the odious smell of weed and cigarettes wafting off him. He took another bite of his pancake and remained silent. 

"Can I get a goddamn water or somethin'?" the stranger demanded, staring at the girl behind the counter who was obviously engrossed in her text messages. 

When she heard the request, her brows furrowed together. Apparently that was the last straw for her, seeing as how she put her hands on her hips and nastily shot out a needlessly loud, "Please wouldn't kill you!"

"Like I give a shit," the stranger muttered and finally tore himself off the floor and into the booth across from Noiz. 

His arms and face were littered with scratches and dirt and his bottom lip was definitely split. His clothes, while nice, also sported an impressive level of filth that made the diner look like fine-dining. The stranger also had with him a bag that had an AllMate sticking out the side. He must have felt Noiz staring because he shot an accusatory glare in his direction. 

"What the hell are you staring at?"

"Your shoe fell off." Noiz's response was slow and deliberate, edging on the side of emotionless. He took another bite of his pancake.

The stranger winced and quickly looked down to his feet. Expectedly, his shoe was gone. As if that simple realization relit a flame of pure anger in him he shot Noiz a harsh stare, golden eyes skirted. 

"Mind your own fucking business."

Noiz clicked his tongue, the piercing on it clanking against his teeth and fork that was still in his mouth. He resumed his meal, making a complete mess of it until he noticed the stranger had relocated to his booth, now seated across from him. Noiz blinked slowly.

"Hey, you're part of that dumb rabbit group."

Noiz arched a singular brow and said nothing. 

"With the fucking bright neon clothes." His grin was a mixture of madness and delight. "You guys are easy as shit to beat."

Noiz rolled his eyes. "Is that the best insult you could think of?"

For some reason the snarky response caused the stranger to further narrow his eyes and then quickly look away. "Screw you."

Noiz went back to ignoring him, figuring he was likely too high to pay attention to any actual conversation. To his dismay, a fork was unceremoniously skewered into his pancakes. A large chunk was then taken out and plopped into the mouth of the stranger. 

"...."

"How much syrup did you put on this damn thing?"

The edges of Noiz's lips twitched up. "A lot."

"Gross..." The stranger gagged but swallowed the bite nonetheless. "You ruined them." 

"I like them."

"No one gives a shit," the stranger retorted. He leaned further back in the booth and crossed his arms, staring up at the ceiling afterward. "Fuck my head hurts."

Noiz didn't respond nor show any sympathy as he continued his late-night meal.

There was a drag of silence before the waitress headed over with the rudely requested water. Her gaze swept over the pair as she set it down and she muttered loudly, "Figures you two brats know each other, Noiz," and then stalked back off to the counter. 

For some reason that information perked the stranger back up as he gulped down half his water in a single go. "Noiz? Is that your Rhyme name?"

Noiz didn't look up from his food. "Why?"

"Because I asked," hissed out the stranger over the rim of his glass. "It doesn't sound Japanese. What the hell language is it?"

Noiz reached into his pocket and dragged out his wallet. Without a single word he dropped some yen down on the table to cover his meal and tip. Then he rose out of the booth, tugging his heavy winter coat on in one fluid motion. 

The stranger panicked. "Hey you asshole! I was talking to--"

Noiz leaned down dangerously close. Their noses almost touched as green met very unamused gold. The stranger looked as if he was about to bite but Noiz started speaking before he had the chance to do anything childishly. 

"You're him. Sly Blue, right? You look pretty pathetic for your reputation. I'm kinda disappointed."

He stepped back, hands sliding into his coat's pockets. Before the stranger, Sly, could respond, Noiz had made his way back over to the door and left. If it hadn't been for how sore his ribs and sides were, the stranger would have darted after him. Instead, he glared, completely pissed, and yanked the remaining pancakes from across the table to consume the rest. What a little punk... Noiz, huh?

Misery had always loved company.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which sly and noiz meet two more times.  
> and they fight and get to know each other.  
> and an offer is extended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY SIRENALLEY.  
> does this count as a birthday gift if it's a chapter update to a fic I already gifted you for vday.  
> does it count?  
> i don't think it does.  
> ok well i'll write somethin' else too.

The next time they meet it's partially over pancakes. Rather, it's outside the diner and the smell of pancakes is heavy in the night air mingling with the staleness of cigarette smoke and recently fallen rain.

This time around Noiz was wearing a pullover, still with the absurd color combination of neon green and black. He was in the middle of taking a long drag off a cigarette before Aoba showed up, bag slung over his shoulder, haughty grin plastered all over his face.

"Yo," Aoba said without a delay as he took up residency on the wall besides the Rhyme Leader.

Noiz didn't answer and instead blew a small puff of air in Aoba's general direction. The rogue's brows burrowed immediately and he was close to lashing out, aiming a punch, but stopped when he saw Noiz holding the cigarette between them, palm up.

"What?" Aoba muttered incredulously. When Noiz didn't move his hand away Aoba hesitantly plucked the thin cigarette and lifted it to his lips. His drag was much longer than Noiz's and much slower, his eyes sliding shut in quiet ecstasy. 

"I figured you were too poor to afford one yourself," Noiz said dryly, expression deadpan.

Aoba sputtered accordingly, cigarette almost falling out from between his fingertips. "Fuck off."

Noiz's lips twisted up momentarily before the cigarette was thrust back towards him. He said nothing as he took it back and took another drag. Silence wrapped between them again and Aoba broke it after a good minute or two.

"I'm not afraid of you," Aoba said, voice low and eyes sharp and dangerous. "I didn't forget what you said last time."

"About not fitting up to your reputation?" Noiz responded lamely.

"Yeah. That. I don't give a shit what people say about me. It's all shit, anyway." Aoba's shoulders hunched and he made an act out of tensing them up high. "Unlike some assholes, I don't need a Rhyme team to kiss my ass and tell me how awesome I am."

Noiz's grin didn't disappear. In fact, it just grew. "You think that's what they do?"

"Most of the time, yeah. And circlejerk like the pansies you guys really are." Aoba licked his lips threateningly, head tipped to the side to stare over at Noiz. 

Noiz wasn't fazed. "Whatever."

"You're fucking annoying, you know that?" Aoba said as he pushed off the wall, hands going deep into his pockets. He turned on his heel, about ready to leave, ditch this place and go somewhere else, tangle someone up in a Rhyme Game that dared to think they could beat them, and then maybe Destroy them if he felt so inclined because he had such a _shitty_ day and--

"Here."

Aoba's gaze dropped down to Noiz's hand, realizing that he was offering him a cigarette of his own this time. Aoba blinked a few times, a cross between downright offended and confused. "The fuck is that for?"

"If you're going to be wasting my time, at least shut up and smoke."

Aoba snorted as his gaze flicked back up to Noiz's. When he met that same pair of emotionless green eyes he couldn't help but scowl. "Weirdass punk…" But he reached for the cigarette regardless and shoved it between his lips. He had no right to turn down a free cigarette, after all. "Gotta light or am I gonna have to play pretend?"

Noiz dug into one of his numerous pockets and produced a small lighter. Instead of handing it over he reached out and with a flick of his thumb ignited the end of Aoba's cigarette, waiting until the soft tip began glowing a dull red before pulling his hand away.

Apparently the action caught Aoba off guard, yet again, because his expression went blank. Though, shortly after, a faint trace of pink appeared high on his cheeks and he quickly looked away, scowling even fiercer than he did before.

"Where the hell are you even from?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your accent isn't from Midorijama and it sure as hell isn't Japanese." 

"You asked me this before."

"Yeah, and like a prick you didn't answer me. So tell me."

"Why should I?" Noiz lifted a singular brow as he removed his cigarette from his lips, staring at Aoba with little to no interest visible on his face.

"Because," Aoba began but backpedaled and ended up glaring again. "It's weird."

"That's a stupid reason," Noiz decided but eventually added, "Germany."

"Germany," Aoba repeated and took a long drag, staring up at the night sky. "Germany," he said again and kicked the back of his foot against the wall behind them, listening to the way the sound echoed off into the silence. "So you wear suspenders and drink alotta beer, is what you're saying."

"That's a stupid stereotype," Noiz said, actually frowning.

"All stereotypes are shit," Aoba corrected and tried his hand at blowing the smoke from his cigarette into a ring. It didn't work. 

"You need a cigar for that," Noiz mumbled when he realized what Aoba was trying to do.

"Whatever," Aoba answered, refusing to look away from the sky. His face was hot and he felt simultaneously pissed off and relaxed. It was a strange mix. He didn't particularly like it. "Do you always come to this stupid diner?"

"It's the only place open this late."

"Eh?" Aoba checked his Coil quickly to confirm the time and let out a small, deep throated chuckle. "Damn it's late."

"Mm." Noiz rolled his eyes, as if annoyed by the pointless confirmation of the time.

"The food's shit," Aoba said, tossing a look over to his right at the diner and the waitress who had all but thrown him out the other night. "Eating crap out of trashcans is probably better."

"I'll take it that you know from experience," Noiz said, tonguing one of his snakebites with a more than cocky expression blooming on his face.

"Fuck you. If anyone eats trash it's your Rhyme team." Aoba shook his head and fixed his gaze back on the sky. It was hard to see the stars with the light pollution like this. There was a time, maybe, when he was able to see them for what they were, but it was blurry now. Most of his memories of his childhood were. Just faces of people that left. "Anyway, this was great and all, but I don't exactly hang around people." It was said with a humorless laugh and Aoba pushed off the wall, tossing his cigarette down on the ground to put out with his shoe.

Noiz didn't answer and continued smoking as if Aoba hadn't said anything at all. Aoba didn't care enough to comment and instead shoved his hands into his pockets and took off, muttering something to his sleep-mode AllMate as he headed off into the night.

***

"Open this fucking door you goddamn piece of shit!"

The slamming of fists against cheap wood broke the otherwise silence of the apartment complex floor. Aoba's body slumped against the locked door and his knuckle was already bloody for other reasons. He had gotten into several brawls earlier on in the night, spurred on by a particularly bad fight with his Grandmother about not coming home and failing classes. Now, after the shittiest day he had had in a long time, he had been informed by Ren when he woke him up that a tracking device was sending a broadcasting a signal off Aoba. He didn't believe it at first until he found the small chip in the hood of his jacket. Downright pissed he demanded Ren trace it and much to his dismay the source was the useless Rhyme leader from the other night. Even worse the brat hadn't even _tried_ to cover his tracks or hide his identity. If he hadn't been in such a blind rage, he may have given that last detail a heavier thought. Instead, he had rushed over to the location and began kicking and punching at the door for a solid three minutes.

Finally, _finally_ when he was about ready to give up, to go to some club and get drunk and high and try to forget about his horrible day and horrible life and how _stupid_ people were, the door opened. Gold eyes narrowed and it took everything the rogue had not to barrel forward.

"It's three in the morning."

"I fucking _know that_. You put a tracking device on me. Why?"

"It's three in the morning," Noiz repeated, looking tired and uninterested. He was wearing nothing but a pair of sweats and the obnoxious hat from before was nowhere to be seen. His hair was mussed from sleep and his eyes were a bit bleary.

"Why are you tracking me?" Aoba snarled, his patience already snapping as he stepped forward and grabbed ahold of Noiz's arm. His fingernails dug ruthlessly against the skin, leaving bad red marks in their wake.

"No reason," Noiz said with a mild shrug, not even bothering to shake Aoba off.

"You don't just fucking track someone. Now tell me why," Aoba hissed. "Or I'll beat the shit out of you and leave your team without its idiot leader."

"I was bored."

The answer shocked Aoba more than it angered him. For some reason, he let go of Noiz and resumed a safe distance between them. Hazy golden eyes washed over Noiz for a second or two, trying to puzzle him out. When he failed, he instead ground his teeth together in utter frustration and lunged forward, knocking them both to the ground.

"I'll teach you a goddamn lesson," was what Aoba was muttering as he pinned Noiz down to the ground, irritation growing when the other showed no signs of struggle or discomfort. Determined to ignite some reaction, Aoba aimed a punch down at Noiz's mouth, only to be blocked with insanely quickly speed.

The return punch was enough to make Aoba temporarily lose his balance long enough for Noiz to sit up and flip them over, effectively pinning _Aoba_ to the floor this time. The strength that accompanied the maneuver was godly and Aoba was both impressed and infuriated that someone so scrawny and frustrating could have such brutal strength. 

"Lemme go," Aoba snarled, trying to dig his nails against the arms that were holding him down against the carpet. 

Noiz didn't answer and instead tried to land a punch but in the process allowed Aoba enough chance to escape his hold and cause them to start rolling around in the ground. It was pathetic, really, two skinny teenagers rolling around, trying to pin one another to the floor, both bleeding and both groaning from time to time. 

The brawl ended after only a few minutes, Aoba slumped against the now-closed door, on his ass, sucking in a heavy breath. He was winded, likely from how poor his lungs were nowadays from the amount of torture he put them through. Noiz, on the other hand, was seated a short distance away, bloody but looking composed. Or, as composed as someone as lifeless as Noiz could look.

"You didn't flinch. Not once," Aoba breathed out hoarsely, looking over to his assailant. "You can't fucking tell me that you're _that_ tough that none of that hurt."

Noiz didn't answer and instead licked at his own bleeding lip. 

Aoba looked away again, feeling oddly put out and on the spot. He had come all the way here to teach Noiz a lesson about tracking people without their permission and he had only ended up squabbling for five minutes and not having any effect on the brat. He was used to people bending to his whims through force and through reputation, but here he was, time and time again, faced with someone who didn't care and seemingly didn't _feel_. Which begged the question, _did_ he actually feel any of it? And if he didn't, how had he trained himself not to?

"You're so goddamn weird," Aoba whispered through clenched teeth, holding his hurt arm close to his chest. His wounds weren't bad enough to need stitches, thankfully, but he wasn't in any shape to be leaving right away. His pride was too hurt for that, too.

Noiz got to his feet and was about to head down the hall, probably to grab bandages of some sort, when Aoba's eyes lit up with understanding. A cruel smile took shape and the blue-haired teen began laughing darkly, if not manically. 

"You like me," Aoba said with undying amusement. "That's why you're tracking me."

"I was bored," Noiz said and was very nearly cut off before he could finish, but the harshness to his gaze managed to convince Aoba otherwise, "and you're stupid enough not to be boring."

In some ways, it was a compliment. And in some ways, Aoba had to agree. Yeah, he was insanely dumb. As dumb as they came. He was reckless and young and naive and lived every moment on the edge. He was the absolute opposite of boring and he lived purely on instinct and raw emotion and his desire to live as much as he could. 

The fact that Noiz had somehow managed to sum all that up after only meeting him a few times made something quake within Aoba. And he didn't like that, either.

"Why aren't you ever around your team?" Aoba muttered instead of further pursuing his earlier intention of harassing the Rhyme Leader. "All the other shitty teams I know live together and do weird shit."

"We're not like that," Noiz answered simply, clicking his tongue. "It's purely a business relationship. What they do on their own time is none of my business, nor do I care."

"Do you care about anything?" Aoba retorted, sounding unimpressed as he rolled his eyes and struggled to his feet.

"Not really."

The answer was so honest that it caught Aoba by surprise. Their gazes met and Aoba looked away. When the silence became too awkward Aoba cleared his throat and fingered his wounds. "Can you at least have the decency to get me something to clean up with, idiot?"

A tiny, haughty look crossed Noiz before he headed down the hall to grab some supplies, breathing out a simple, "'kay," as he left.

Aoba remained where he was, mulling it all over. By the time Noiz returned, Aoba had taken to stripping off his hoodie and moving towards the couch to sit down. The apartment was, now that Aoba was looking at it, a bit too ritzy for his tastes. It wasn't necessarily lavish but the quality of furniture and the neatness of it was suffocating. There was too much empty space and the colors felt just as empty as he himself sometimes felt. At least on the nights he did end up back at Tae's her house was warm and inviting, reminiscent of some long gone warmer memories.

"So you're some rich German brat who happens to be good at fighting and Rhyme," Aoba drawled as Noiz handed him some bandages and a small bottle of disinfectant. "Why the hell Midorijama?"

"I wanted to try Rhyme."

"Seems like a pretty shitty reason to leave a country," Aoba muttered and hissed out in pain when the rubbing alcohol began cleaning one of his deeper cuts. 

"It wasn't the only reason."

"Didn't think it was. I just wasn't interested in the sap story."

"Good. I wasn't interested in telling it, either."

There was another shared look between the pair that shook Aoba incredibly and he only ended up trying to glare but ultimately pouting at the end of it. "You're so frustrating." 

Noiz didn't seem to have a response to that and instead began coding something on his laptop that was on the coffee table near the couch. He didn't seem interested in cleaning his own wounds and if Aoba had been a better person he probably would have questioned it. Instead, he watched the blonde out of the corner of his eye with mild curiosity. So a nerd, too? What the hell was up with this foreign kid?

"Gimme your Rhyme tag."

"It's Noiz."

"Seriously?" Aoba said, annoyed that he was as surprised as he was. Regardless, he started up his Coil after he finished cleaning up and put in Noiz's information, sending over a Contact Info request. 

"Why?" Noiz asked, looking over. When he saw the request floating in the air before Aoba closed the screen, he blinked a few times. 

They weren't friends and they were barely acquaints after the few meetings they had had. And after that brawl that had just occurred, Noiz wasn't sure why Aoba would extend such an offer. It felt out of place but then again, everything felt out of place when he was around this train wreck of a kid. 

"In case I want to beat the shit out of you again," Aoba explained and slumped further back against the couch, closing his eyes.

Noiz didn't question it and, when he was certain Aoba's eyes were shut, cracked the tinniest of smiles. What a weird person this 'Sly' Blue was….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time!!!: a party, some booze, and bad decisions. and maybe some fluff. and some actual plot. leave them kudos, children.


	3. what you do in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which pancakes are had (again) and noiz and sly go to a party.  
> and sly gets drunk.  
> it's probably not what you're expecting to happen.
> 
> this story is getting out of hand lmao.  
> deal with it.

The beeping of an incoming message caught Noiz's attention as he was fishing another slice of pizza out of the box. The pseudousagi began a choir of chirping, announcing the sender and the timestamp of the text message. Noiz would have ignored it - as he usually did - save for the fact that it was from that strange kid. That 'Sly Blue'.

Noiz shoved the slice of pizza into his mouth and headed over to his Coil he had left beside the couch. As expected, there lay a new message glowing on the screen from the bratty kid. His brows furrowed and he quickly swiped to the right to open the text.

`**sly blue**  
'hey brat'`

"Tch, seriously?" Noiz breathed aloud and took a seat on the couch. He gobbled down the rest of the slice before opening the message in its entirety to respond. A holographic keyboard showed up promptly afterward and floated in front of Noiz, ready for use. Expertly the hacker plucked at the keys and sent back a short message.

`**noiz**  
'what'?`

Noiz was about to get up and attend to the bunny cubes that had decided now would be a great time to roll around and slam into each other when his Coil beeped again. That was fast. 

`**sly blue**  
'pancakes and then party?'`

Noiz wrinkled his nose.

`**noiz**  
' i don't do parties'`

`**sly blue**  
'you will tonight ;)'`

Something about that attached smilie made Noiz roll his eyes. How ludicrous… He took longer to respond this time, fetching himself a glass of soda in the meantime. His schedule for the night consisted of revamping a database for Ruff Rabbit and then tracking Usui's seed in the system to figure out the next few days worth of destinations. Not pancakes or sweaty bodies at some party.

`**noiz**  
'what makes you think i'll say yes?'`

`**sly blue**  
'i'll fight you in rhyme sometime. how about that.'`

`**noiz**  
'so?'`

Noiz wasn't interested in pointless fights nowadays (or at least, as much). When he first arrived on the island he had sought out the best players. He wanted to prove himself, wanted to find something he was good at, wanted to immerse himself in the mirage of pain as much as he could. It went without saying that he became a natural at it and caught quite the following.

`**sly blue**  
'only one of us can remain undefeated ;)'`

So the brat crept into his Rhyme stats. It wasn't that difficult to do, what with how the program was always changing and he wouldn't be surprised if the 'exclusive' membership allowed access into another gamer's stats to check on their win streak. But the phrasing to that. Sly Blue was _undefeated_ , too…

`**noiz**  
'….'`

`**sly blue**  
'what about it bunny boy'`

`**noiz**  
'diner at nine'`

They'd play by his rules.

`**sly blue**  
' 'kay ;) '`

Noiz's shoulders tensed at the response. Definitely something unnerving about that smile and who it was from. Regardless, he closed his Coil and went about his work, figuring he might as well and try to savor as much of the night as he could before he was bribed out of his apartment.

Leaving was a bad decision, in retrospective. 

*!*

Noiz showed up half an hour early to the diner. He assumed his usual seat against the window and ordered himself a round of pancakes with extra syrup as well as a light and sweet coffee. If he was going to be stalking around with someone like Sly Blue, he needed as much of a sugar rush as the poor establishment could provide.

Aoba showed up shortly after, wearing that same absurd hoodie. Upon seeing Noiz he flashed the Rhymer a toothy grin and headed over, sweeping his body into the booth when he got there. 

"Miss me?"

"Not really," Noiz deadpanned, taking another bite of his meal.

Aoba's expression immediately dropped. "Hey. Who said you could start before me?"

"I got here early." His shoulders rolled into an apathetic shrug.

"Asshole," Aoba scoffed and got up from the booth to track down the waitress so he could order. He returned shortly after and took his seat across from Noiz once more. "Are you paying for me?"

"Is this a date?" Despite the cocky question, Noiz's expression remained unchanged and as indifferent as ever.

Aoba snorted. "What? You hitting on me? What a fag…" He slumped back further in the booth and began glaring up at the ceiling, long blue bangs hiding his eyes. "I didn't bring money."

"So you were expecting me to pay," Noiz clarified with a slight quirk of his lips. How absurd.

"Don't fucking smirk at me. I don't need to look at you to know you're wearing that same shit-eating grin," Aoba said with a glower, arms crossing over his body. Just to prove his point he remained seated with his eyes glued on the ceiling.

"Only idiots invite someone to go eat without having any money."

"I said, don't fucking--"

"I'll pay."

Aoba seemed startled and he jolted in his seat. Slowly, his eyes marched across the table to land on Noiz's. Something about the sharpness of his green eyes made Aoba shiver and he bit down on his bottom lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood. 

"Don't think this means I owe you."

"Of course not."

They sat in silence until Aoba's food came. And then they ate in silence. Noiz's eyes roamed over Aoba as they sat there, noticing a few new cuts and bruises. A dark bruise was fading under Aoba's left eye and there were a few scabbed over scrapes down near his wrists. Judging by that, Aoba could easily have been labeled as a Ribster. At least, unless someone knew better. And Noiz knew better.

"You're staring at me, bunny boy."

Noiz clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. "Just wondering how someone who is apparently undefeated looks like he got hit by a truck."

"Hit by a truck…" Aoba repeated the phrase, nose wrinkling in distaste. "That's a weird saying. Is that something you say in Germany or wherever the hell you're from? It doesn't translate well over here."

Noiz shrugged, not caring too much. Instead, he finished his pancakes and resumed sipping his coffee. He liked the way the hot liquid occasionally burned his tongue. 

There was something unsettling in the air and Aoba sensed it. He quickly finished his admirable stack of pancakes and nudged Noiz roughly under the table, foot against the other's shin.

"Go pay. I want to go to the party now."

Noiz didn't respond and arose from the booth. For a second it looked as if he was going to do as instructed but at the last second he leaned over and snatched Aoba's collar. Apparently it caught Aoba off guard because he yelped quietly in surprise, golden eyes narrowing in surprise. His hands reached up to try and pry Noiz's fingers off but with no luck. Nails, then, tried to dig at the bandages of Noiz's hands but that didn't seem to work either.  
There was that strange pain tolerance again.

"Don't tell me what to do," Noiz said, tone lifeless and cold. He let go of Aoba and headed over to the counter to pay, acting as if he hadn't just tried to choke Aoba in public or whatever.

"The fuck…" Aoba muttered to himself, fixing his collar and hoodie in annoyance. Then again, he should have expected it, with how he was baiting the brat the entire meal. Maybe the kick to his shin was the last straw. For some reason that information made his lips curl in mild amusement. When he was certain Noiz was engaged in conversation with the waitress, he murmured aloud,

"Keep surprising me, bunny boy."

*!*

"It's loud."

"No shit it's loud, it's a party. Get over it."

"There's too many people."

"Stop bitching and get inside already."

"I'm leaving."

"Like _fuck_ you are, you baby."

Aoba reached across the distance and snatched Noiz's wrist, dragging him from the threshold of the apartment and into the party itself. Once inside, the door slammed shut and the darkness washed over them.

There were strobe lights and old disco balls set up everywhere. Bottles and bottles of half-empty alcohol littered the counters and tabletops as throngs of people headed in every which direction. Beating loudly in the background was a heavy bass of some song Noiz had never heard before. The smell of marijuana and the distinct scent of cigars wafted through the area, occasionally coupling with fruity mixers and cheap booze.

"You ever been to one of these?" Aoba asked as he herded Noiz over to the far corner of the apartment near the window. The shades had been drawn and it made it feel more like a prison than a party.

"No."

"Shoulda known," Aoba murmured as he reached over to grab an empty glass that was resting uselessly on the fireplace they were standing beside. "I'm gonna grab somethin'. Want anything, bunny boy?"

"I'm fine."

Noiz slumped back against the wall, not entirely amused. He had spent his entire life building walls to keep people out and here was Aoba, dragging him into a party. This was the absolute opposite of what he had been striving for. This was suffocating and obnoxious and just as annoying as the delinquent he came here with.

Aoba returned a few minutes later with his glass filled with some dark liquid. "Whiskey," Aoba explained when he came back over and took a sip. His face contorted in displeasure but he masked it with a haughty laugh; Noiz could smell the cheap liquor even from that.

"C'mon, why don't you at least drink something?"

"Why did you drag me here?" Noiz asked. Despite his pouty words, they way they were breathed out sounded more interested than upset. That was a plus. 

Aoba didn't answer and took another long swig of his cup. Enough of a swig to empty the glass. Victoriously, Aoba slammed it backed down on the fireplace and turned his attention to the fellow Rhymer. Noiz guessed the contents had been straight whiskey, judging from the viscosity and the smell. 

"Dance with me."

"No. I don't dance with idiots."

"What's that supposed to mean, you asshole?" Aoba growled, shaking his head. "If you took me on a date earlier you might as well dance with me."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Yes it does. I'm yours for the night, nerd. Might as well make the best of it, right?"

Aoba drew closer, his presence just as warm as his words. In that moment he was like fire: hot and unrelenting. He reached out and touched Noiz's arms, touch scorching and consuming. Even in the dim light Noiz could see the golden eyes of the stranger flicker mercilessly. Noiz wondered if that was the same look Aoba took on when he was engaged in Rhyme, fighting and fighting and never losing.

"So, are you gonna dance with me or not?"

"I told you: I don't do parties or dance."

Aoba licked his lips, laughed, and ignored Noiz entirely. Rather, he began dancing nonetheless, swaying his hips to the music thudding through the apartment. 

It was sinful, really, the way his hips moved in perfect sync with the unknown beat. His hair cascaded perfectly down his back and bounced with the beat, the tips pointing straight down to his ass, which in the jeans Aoba had decided to wear for their evening out, made it even more prominent than usual. Aoba tossed a look back over his shoulder at Noiz, eyes heavy and lips parted invitingly. "Well?" Noiz could almost hear him breathe above the rush and commotion of the world around them.

As if guided by invisible strings Noiz took a step forward and closed the distance between them. His hands found purchase on Aoba's hips. The gesture earned a deep and loud purr of approval from Aoba who ground back into Noiz's crotch.

"That's a good bunny," Aoba breathed just loud enough for the two of them to hear.

Skinny pale fingers drifted over Noiz's hands on his hips. Aoba laid his head back on Noiz's shoulder, gaze flicked up to try and read the expression of the Rhymer behind him. There was nothing there, as usual, and Aoba's expression turned sour again.

As if to drill out some sort of reaction, Aoba turned around in Noiz's hold. Noiz's hands shifted to rest back on Aoba's hips just around the time Aoba surged forward and gyrated his hips, hard, against Noiz's. His arms flew around the blonde's neck and he let loose a moan that probably made everyone nearby blush down to their toes.

Noiz blinked in surprise, the faintest tinge of pleasure shooting down into his groin. He could barely feel it but it was there, Aoba pressed against him, pretty golden eyes lidded as he continued grinding on Noiz. He could feel the brat getting hard against him and it made Noiz wet his own lips. He imagined Aoba naked, just for a second, just as a thought, mind temptingly urging him to touch more, to shove Aoba against a wall, to make him pay with his body for that meal for earlier. Because that's just what sex was, right? A bargaining ship. A currency.

"C'mon, Noiz. Let's go to the bathroom and fuck," Aoba breathed, voice a horrible coo before drifting off into another clipped moan. "Come on… wreck me."

The words made Noiz's pulse soar and he felt himself getting harder in response. He had pegged Aoba as a strange, destructive idiot but he hadn't guessed that the other was some sort of sex addict. They hadn't known each other for long and yet here Aoba was, begging him to push him against the nearest surface and fuck him senseless.

It was strangely appealing. Or maybe that was just Noiz's own fucked-up side speaking.

"Say my name," Aoba begged, arms falling from Noiz's neck to latch around his waist and grab his ass, urging the other to push further, grind harder, faster. "Come on, you stupid brat."

Noiz tipped his head, lips tickling Aoba's ear so he could respond. "Oi…if you wanted a cheap fuck why did you drag me--"

He was cut short of his accusation when Aoba jerked back. His hand latched onto Noiz's wrist and his free hand flew up to cover his mouth. Noiz's eyes fluttered open and he stared questioningly at the other. Hadn't he just been begging him to…?

"I'm gonna fuckin' puke," was all Aoba said before he scurried down the hallway, tripping over bodies and slamming into walls on his way to the bathroom.

Out of some sense of obligation Noiz followed.

When he got there, his erection had already died down (as had Aoba's, he figured) and Aoba was seated on the floor, clutching the porcelain throne with a death grip. Noiz nudged the door close behind himself and headed over, just as Aoba expelled his stomach's contents into the bowl of the toilet.

"Attractive," Noiz said in a mumble as he sat down beside Aoba, back pressed against the wall.

"Don't…fuckin' watch me…you freak…" Aoba said, panting, breathless, before he threw up again, body shivering and convulsing with its effort.

"You drank too much," Noiz said simply, head cocked to the side. It didn't take a genius to realize the other had an extremely low tolerance and drinking whiskey neat probably wasn't a good idea. At least it explained the lewd dancing from before.

"I didn't…" Aoba whined in protest, anger seeping out before he started throwing up again.

Sighing, Noiz reached out and very gently hooked his fingers down at the nape of Aoba's neck. With a degree of care that was incredibly unlikely for someone like Noiz, he curled his fingers gently around Aoba's hair and pulled it back, out of the way of danger.

There was heavy silence.

Aoba had stopped throwing up at that point and instead was sitting there, shoulders tense, glaring at the filled bowl. Noiz, on the other hand, held loosely to Aoba's hair and stared at the way the blue strands fell effortlessly through his fingers. It was soft, just as soft as Aoba's skin, and his head buzzed with something. _Something_.

Eventually Aoba sat back on his haunches and wrenched himself free of Noiz's grasp. He flushed the toilet and rubbed his lips clean with the back of his hand, frowning at the weird sensation doing such caused.

"You didn't have to follow me," Aoba said, exhaustion creeping into his otherwise annoyed voice.

"I was expecting to mess around in here."

"Bull shit…" Aoba looked to Noiz, catching that stupid grin just in time. There was a warmth in Aoba's words, and on his cheeks, that hadn't been there before. Maybe it was from getting sick. "I can still suck you off, if you want."

"With that mouth?" Noiz deadpanned and got to his feet.

Aoba, for a split second, looked frightened and barely caught himself before he reached out to tug on Noiz's sleeve. He couldn't help the fear in his eyes, however.

"If you promise not to destroy it, you can crash on my couch."

"Who says I want you to walk me home?"

"Tch." Noiz looked back to him. "Do you want me to leave you here?"

There was a heaviness that was reserved for close friends, for people who cared for one another. It wasn't meant for newly formed friendships or rivalries or whatever was spawning between them. Golden eyes darted off to the side and it was a long time before Aoba finally answered.

"Yeah. Whatever. Just don't make it look gay."

And that was how Aoba Seragaki ended up on his couch for the night, passed out, curled up in obnoxiously green blankets that smelt too much like Noiz. 

Too much like a home Aoba never had.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which ren has a virus, aoba starts hanging around noiz even more, and alcohol and weed are the primetime suspects.  
> or otherwise known as the chapter where things happen.  
> but not as much as you'd imagine.  
> thanks again to the lovely trio for joining me in the live-write!  
> :*  
> you guys are such a motivation i love you all.
> 
> next chapter:  
> more development, virus and trip, some rhyme, and the heaviness grows.

Needless to say, Noiz's couch and apartment were rather empty for a week or so after _that_ evening. Aoba had woke up on Noiz's couch the morning after the party, head throbbing and memories blurred. One distinct image stood out, though, and that was of rough hands touching his hair, holding it back, _gently_ , as he expelled his stomach contents into some cruddy toilet. It was enough to keep him away.  It was enough to break the line of communication entirely - not like there was much of one to begin with. 

It worked relatively well. Aoba didn't appear at the diner late at night and he stayed clear of any gatherings where Ruff Rabbit was likely to be at. Noiz didn't particularly notice nor care - he was used to being a loner, to living and working on his own. The annoying presence of some delinquent was of no loss to him. Not really.  It just gave him more time to focus on his work and not worry about _distractions_.

It was about a week later that Aoba reappeared at Noiz's door, sporting a hefty black eye. His hoodie, covered in dirt, whispered of deeds better left unspoken. Whatever had transpired at that party hung in the air viciously, showing that time _didn't_ heal everything.

Noiz wrinkled his touch and furrowed his brows after opening the door. No questions were asked and Noiz left the door open, turned around, and headed back over to the couch to resume eating pizza and messing around on his laptop. 

"Bunny boy," Aoba began, voice edgy but more tired than anything else. "You're good with AllMates, right?" 

Noiz flicked his gaze away from his screen just in time to see Aoba slinking over, refusing to meet his eyes. He stood awkwardly at the side of the couch, a bit lost. Noiz wasn't entirely sure what to make of it and instead answered, "Yeah." 

"Something's wrong with my stupid AllMate. Fix it." 

Without further ado, Aoba took the fluffy Pomeranian out from the bag slung over his shoulder. He set the AllMate, currently in sleep mode, down on the couch beside Noiz. When Noiz didn't say anything, Aoba inched the dog closer to the Rhymer, restlessly swaying back and forth on his feet. "Well?" Aoba asked, annoyed. 

"I'll need to do a full system scan," Noiz said, voice bland and tone flat. 

"Then do it already." Aoba flopped down on the floor in front of the couch, crossing his legs. And _then_ proceeded to shoot Noiz the harshest glare he could muster.  

Exasperatedly, Noiz sighed and arose from the couch to grab something from the kitchen table. He returned to the couch, spinning the screw-driver between his fingers, sat back down, and collected the fluffy dog into his lap. "It's old. That's what's wrong with it." 

"Shut up," Aoba growled, fingernails digging into the carpet beneath him. "I said something's _wrong_ with it. Not that it's old." 

"Tch." Noiz shook his head, muttered something about brats not understanding how technology aged, and took the screwdriver to the plate on the AllMate's stomach. In a quick flurry of movement, Noiz connected the AllMate to his laptop and began plucking away at his keyboard. As he worked, his tongue stuck out at the very corner of his mouth, the picture of concentration.

"Y'know," Aoba began, watching him work rather intently. The storm of _something_ that had arrived at the front door, riding in with Aoba, crackled between them.

"What?" 

"When you're not being annoying as fuck, you're kinda cute." 

There was a beat of silence and Noiz stopped typing. He looked away from his screen to regard the blue-haired teenager sitting in front of him. "No." 

"No what?" Aoba leaned back, palms flat down against the floor, sounding offended. "I didn't say I wanted your dick, calm down." 

Noiz didn't refute it, didn't push it any further, and instead resumed his work on the AllMate.  The storm quietly hissed and resumed looming above their heads, otherwise silent.

Ten minutes later, much to Aoba's disdain and boredom, Noiz _finally_ unplugged the AllMate and set him down on the floor beside Aoba. "It's fine now." 

"What was wrong?" Aoba pried, plucking his AllMate off the floor and into his lap. He gently touched the dog's forehead with his hand, starting him up and out of sleep mode. He was greeted with a deep, 'Hello, Aoba'. Aoba tilted his head to the side, trying to conceal a sigh of relief. 

"A virus," Noiz explained. He shut his laptop and leaned his cheek against his palm. 

"From _who_ ?" Aoba asked harshly, ripping his attention away from Ren to Noiz. 

"Dunno." 

"Bullshit. Trace it or whatever you nerds do. I want to know who to destroy." There was something dangerous in his voice, something Noiz hadn't exactly heard before. There was a glint of fury, of absolute, raw emotion, floating in Aoba's eyes.  So Noiz knocked his foot hard against Aoba's knee. 

The electric tension, the unspoken, ungodly power dissipated into mild annoyance. "The hell?" 

Noiz shook his head. "I didn't bother tracing it. It doesn't matter. It's fixed now." 

Aoba breathed out through his nose. "Thanks, nerd." 

A coy smirk crept up on Noiz's otherwise passive lips and he said, "If you're that attached to that mangy old model, I'd stop getting into Drive-Bys." 

Apparently it was enough of a trigger for Aoba to surge forward and slam his hands down on Noiz's knees in front of him, using them as leverage to lean his upper torso up. Gold met green and the darkness crept back into his eyes. That heaviness was back, this time coupled with a dark emptiness. 

"Don't tell me what to do." 

It sounded like a warning. Noiz blinked back at him, unfazed. "If you meant that, you wouldn't have just said that. You'd have just punched me." 

Aoba blinked once, twice, thrice, and then bristled, nails digging hard against Noiz's clothed knees. "Don't act like you know me." 

"I don't." Noiz shrugged. 

Maybe that was the problem. Aoba sized him up for a moment longer before the AllMate at his side interrupted him. 

"Aoba. You have a new message from Mizuki." 

Noiz seemed to recognize the name and that cocky smirk returned. "I didn't know you kept company with Ribsters." It was a taunt. Low and demeaning and it was all part of the game, apparently. 

Aoba's face paled and then surged red, hand slamming down on the AllMate's forehead to turn him off. " _Got it_ , Ren." 

Noiz's taunt seemed to work, but the Rhymer's expression quickly resumed its curiousness. "You named it?"

"So? What's the big deal?" Put off, Aoba returned Ren into his bag and shoved it away from him in a childish act of defiance. "Didn't you name your stupid bunny cubes or whatever?"

"No."

Just as Noiz answered, the cubes rolled onto scene and stopped beside Aoba. Electronic chattering greeted him and one of the cubes decided to lunge forward and land on Aoba's lap where Ren had been moments before. Instead of speaking in Japanese, however, the cube chirped in perfect German, _"Hello, hello! P!"_

"Wow. These are _way_ too cute for a pierced jerk. Must suck being the AllMate for such an asshole, huh?" Aoba flashed Noiz a toothy grin and poked the cube between its small eyes. "You have them set in German?"

Noiz rolled his eyes. "It's my native language."

"But you're in frickin' Japan, idiot. And you speak it fluently, anyway." Aoba watched as the cube nudged against his palm and spun around on its corner, obviously amused and enthralled by the attention it was seeking… almost like a real rabbit. "You must really like rabbits, then-"

"You're smiling."

"What?"

Aoba looked up from the cube, scandalized. 

"Just now. You were smiling."

A hotness touched Aoba's face and ears and he quickly shoved the cubes away and got to his feet. In a flurry, he fixed his hair, grabbed his bag, and stormed off towards the front-door, nearly tripping on the cubes as he did so. "Thanks for nothing, bunny boy!" he grumbled as he made his leave, closing the door behind him a bit louder than necessary.

Noiz watched it all happen, not fighting it, not trying to stop him. A tiny quirk of his lips morphed into an actual smile the second Aoba was out of sight and he picked up one of the cubes and closed his eyes. Just thinking. Just _wondering_. Apparently they weren't talking about what happened at the party, then. Huh.

* * *

And just like that, Aoba became a facet of his apartment, of his life, of his existence. Whether Noiz liked it or not, the kid with the bad reputation ended up at his place nearly every night. Some nights he'd just stop by and snark at him, but other nights he'd come in without a word, slink off towards the couch and proceed to sleep. He'd leave the next morning without a single word, too, and neither of them questioned it. It became a groove. At least for awhile. Until Aoba realized that he was partially indebted Noiz - for the pancakes, for fixing Ren, for the stupid party, for letting him crash here whenever he was too ashamed to go back to his own place. That was when things slipped back into the realm of dangerous.

"Bunny boy, guess what."

Aoba didn't wait for Noiz to look up from his laptop, nor did he wait for him to greet him or put the laptop away. Instead, Aoba swung his body onto the couch beside the Ruff Rabbit leader. A second later and Aoba held up a decently large brown bag. 

"What? You got us lunch for once?"

"For once-- No. I did _better_."

Noiz lifted his a singular brow and gave Aoba the courtesy of shutting his laptop and nudging it under the couch with his feet. Attention now undivided, he gave the bag a skeptical stare. "What's in it, then?" If it wasn't pizza or pasta.

Aoba, rather satisfied with Noiz's reaction, stuck his hand inside and revealed a bottle of cinnamon whiskey as well as a tiny plastic bag. "Some guys from Dry Juice figured they owed me a favor so they got me this. Pretty cool, huh? Consider this repayment or whatever, ok?"

"I don't drink," Noiz reiterated, sounding like a broken record. Rather, he felt nostalgic, uneasy, if only because the last time Aoba approached him with alcohol was the night Aoba got sick and they danced and things got too close, too dangerous, too close to being something more than brats being brats. 

"Then at least smoke a joint with me." Aoba leaned against Noiz, waving the baggy of green contents around in front of Noiz's nose. "Pretty please?"

Noiz wrinkled his nose and reached up to take the small bag from Aoba. His fingers rubbed the contents inside and he sighed. "Fine."

"That was easy." Aoba sounded a bit surprised but reached back into the brown bag to grab what they'd need and got to work on the coffee table in front of them, rolling up thin sheets of what looked like rice paper or something comparable - Noiz wasn't entirely sure but it was interesting watching Aoba work. Aoba felt the eyes on his hands and he shot Noiz a glare over his shoulder.

"Go get me some glasses, idiot."

Noiz obeyed and fetched two small glasses from his cabinet, filled halfway with ice, and placed them down on the table.

"Pour the whiskey and grow a pair and have some."

Noiz actually managed a smirk and watched as Aoba rolled up the grassy contents of the bag into what looked like a cigarette. He handed it off to Noiz after the blonde was done pouring them both half a glass full of whiskey. 

"You know you're supposed to drink it neat, right?" Aoba murmured, finally noticing the ice clinking around in the glass. He didn't push the issue and, once Noiz had grabbed the cigarette lookalike from him, snagged a glass and threw back half of it.

"Don't care. I like ice," Noiz finally answered and he reached into his pants pocket to retrieve his lighter.

Aoba, however, stopped him before he could light the end of it. "Wait for me, asshole." His hand lightly touched Noiz's wrist but neither said anything about it. "Do you even know how to smoke it?"

"It's the same as a cigarette, isn't it?"

Aoba snorted. "You need to inhale more if you wanna feel anything." He finished rolling his own joint and leaned back on the couch, finally letting go of Noiz's wrist. "Drink some whiskey first, anyway."

Noiz seemed to be in a compliant mood as he took the glass from the table, took a sample sip, wrinkled his nose, and then downed an equivalent amount. He set the glass back down, smacked his lips together, and shot Aoba an incredulous look. "It's stinging."

'It's cinnamon, no shit it is." Aoba actually laughed and knocked their shoulders together once more. "Ok. Where's your smoke detector. You don't want that fuckin' thing going off and killing your high or buzz."

"I never turned it on."

Aoba paused, joint to his lips, and surveyed Noiz for a careful, collective second. There was something about the way he said it so care freely, as if something that was meant to save lives didn't matter to him. Something about it made Aoba stare a second too long and he quickly stole Noiz's lighter before either of them could notice the blush high on Aoba's cheeks.

"Shut up and smoke with me."

* * *

It wasn't long before both Aoba and Noiz were effectively tipsy and on the edge of a high. Aoba had taken to nesting against Noiz's side, never once leaning away even though there was plenty of room on the couch. By the time they had both finished their glasses and joints, the next task at hand was getting something to eat because apparently drinking and smoking lead to increased appetites.

"Please, _please_ fuckin' tell me you have somethin' around here," Aoba groaned, burying his face against Noiz's arm, head butting it in the process.

"Mm. Chips. In the cabinet next to the fridge."

"'kay," Aoba said and finally pried himself off Noiz and hopped off the couch. 

His movements were clumsy, messy, and his vision was a tiny bit blurry but also better than usual. Everything felt alive, _he_ felt alive, and it was like nothing else mattered except the alcohol in his system and the stupid blonde German back on the couch. Nearly tripping on the walk over, Aoba reached up to open the cabinet. Much to his dismay the chips were located on the highest shelf, and in his drunken stupor, Aoba huffed rather loudly at them.

"You _fuckers_."

"Are you yelling at the chips?" Noiz called from the couch, resting his chin down on the armrest. Compared to Aoba, the weed and the alcohol had mellowed him out and the indifference and coldness that was always present had drifted off into a relaxed state of easiness.

"Shut the fuck up, brat!" Aoba said, tossing Noiz a pout. He stumbled against the counter and tried to reach up with his tiptoes to snag the bag but failed. "I can't reach them."

"Hold on." Noiz got up from the couch and headed over. His steps were slower than usual but, as compared to Aoba, they were a lot more composed, a lot more measured. When he reached the kitchen he eyed the traitorous chips and clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. 

"See? The fuckers," Aoba muttered pathetically, crossing his arms.

"I can get them," Noiz said and, on his tip toes, tried to reach for the bag of chips. He failed miserably, as they were up too high and Noiz had put them up there with a chair one day when he wasn't plastered.

"Wow. You suck." Aoba leaned against Noiz, laughing rather loudly. "You're like the same height as me, moron. Why did you think you'd be able to reach them?"

Noiz didn't answer and instead reached out to open the fridge. In one fluid motion, surprisingly, he retrieved a box of leftover pizza and began heading back to the couch, nudging the fridge's door closed with his foot.

Aoba followed at Noiz's heels, reclaiming his spot on the couch nestled against Noiz's side. 

And they ate. 

When they were done, Aoba began pouring them liberal amounts of whiskey. There was still some ice left in their glasses, which prevented Noiz from having to get up again. With a clumsy clink of their glasses, they began drinking once more. Drinking until nearly all of the bottle of cheap cinnamon whiskey was gone and Aoba's vision was just a tiny bit blurry.

Noiz, on the other hand, seemed _completely_ at ease, the last tension fading from him as the alcohol drained from the glass. As Aoba leaned back against him, his arm hooked around his shoulders and started playing with the ends of strands of blue.

"Don't touch my hair," Aoba grumbled, turning his head and pressing it into the side of Noiz's chest. The shirt was warm and smelt like Noiz, a careful mix of pizza, pasta, youth, bad decisions, determination, and undertones of mint. 

"It's soft."

Aoba cracked a grin into Noiz's shirt and snaked his arm back around Noiz, curling around the blonde's waist. "And you're fuckin' stoned."

"Mm." Noiz didn't refute that and instead continued playing with Aoba's hair.

Aoba, used to snarling and kicking and throwing a fit, felt oddly happy, oddly in place, and he closed his eyes. "Noiz."

"What?"

"Tell me about Germany."

Noiz stared off at the turned off television, as if it held all the answers. His fingers ceased playing with Aoba's hair and he didn't answer right away. "I didn't like it."

"Sucks…" Aoba frowned even if his friend couldn't see it. "Why did it suck?"

"I was alone," Noiz said, voice actually possessing traces of emotion - touches of melancholy and pain and anguish. "I don't want to go back."

Aoba sensed something underneath the surface but was too drunk, too high, to probe further, to care, and instead shifted off his perch against Noiz's chest. He didn't go far and instead peered at the German's expression, golden eyes locking with distant green. 

"Say somethin' in German."

"Why?"

"Because it's hot."

Noiz cracked a lazy grin and brought his hand up to the back of Aoba's head, fingertips ghosting at his nape. He parted his lips and German spilled forth, edgy and deeper than his usual voice. It probably had something to do with his tone and with the difference in languages, but regardless of the reason, Aoba seemed to crack a tiny smile at Noiz.

"Wow."

"Wow what?"

"You."

There was layers and layers of buried meaning in that, but it all got lost as Aoba leaned closer and pressed their lips together, arm still hooked around Noiz. He scooted closer and pressed their chests together, too, edging himself half onto Noiz's lap to have better access to his lips. It was almost immediate that Noiz's lips moved under his, returning the kiss. That electricity from the past week, past month, surged up, crackling and sparkling between them, and it wasn't long because Aoba made a soft, pleading noise against the kiss. It didn't sound lusty nor did it sound demanding. It sounded desperate in a different way - desperate for something warm, for something affectionate and caring - desperate for something like this, someone like this.

Noiz kissed Aoba harder, free arm looping around Aoba's middle. He nipped at Aoba's bottom lip playfully, lazily, and then went back to kissing him slowly. Aoba didn't seem to mind and instead went about tracing his hands along everything he could touch, his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest. 

The kiss didn't last much longer. Aoba pressed his forehead to Noiz's, just for a second, and he breathed him in, the smallest of true smiles creeping itself forward.

"Aoba."

Aoba pressed a lazy, second kiss to the corner of Noiz's lips, "Hey," he said, lips touching and brushing against Noiz's as he spoke, "That's the first time you've said my name." He shifted and moved to press his head down against Noiz's shoulder, eyes heavy.

Noiz chuckled, breathy and low, and hummed. "Bed?"

"Yes _please_ ," Aoba groaned drowsily. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the weed, the food, or the warmth of Noiz that put him into such a drowsy state but he didn't mind it. Not when Noiz was right here, just for now. The morning would be different and that cold indifference would return to both of them. That storm would roll back in and it'd be like this hadn't happened at all.

But for now, Aoba could pretend that Noiz cared, that _he_ cared about Noiz, and that they both were happy, despite their own fucked up lives. For a moment, he could _be_ happy.

He would be okay for awhile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i don't really know about this chapter????  
> mizuki shows up, the twins make their first (BUT NOT LAST) appearance, and noiz and aoba get closer.  
> as in kissing. and maybe other stuff. just read it and find out ok?  
> im not sure if i like this chapter or not.  
> whatever. :*

There was a stupid adage in English that talked of the hair of the dog that bit you that Noiz recalled reading about when he was still stuck in Germany. He never imagined he would come to understand it, experience it, firsthand. 

When he awoke the next morning, the bed was empty. A small dent the approximate size of a certain Rhymer remained, however, still warm to the touch. Groaning, the blonde squirmed closer to the indentation beside him, face resting against the warm blankets. His nose twitched. The smell of cheap booze, cheap drugs, and _that guy_ lingered in the sheets. Noiz's eyes fluttered open and stared at the bed. Poor choice, for the moment he opened his eyes he regretted it. The bright light filtering in through the half-open shades stung his eyes and caused a foreign throb - dull, of course - in his head.

"Yo."

Noiz heard the _far too loud_ voice and forced his eyes back open. Aoba stood in the door to the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe. With wet hair and a pout, Noiz could only conclude Aoba had awoken in a similar state.

"You feel like shit, too?" Aoba asked. He lifted his hand, covered his mouth, and yawned. It was probably the most polite thing Noiz had ever seen him do.

"I guess," Noiz murmured as he pushed himself up and threw his legs off the edge of the bed. 

"Tylenol usually works. That and stale bread. Which you seem to have plenty of." 

"'kay. I'm taking a shower."

Noiz got up, brushed past Aoba, and closed himself off in the bathroom. He turned the water on its highest setting, got in, and all but slammed his forehead against the sleek, too-cold wall of the shower. 

Given Aoba's actions, he certainly didn't _seem_ to remember the night before. And if he did, it didn't seem to bother him. Noiz, on the other hand, recalled every single moment, every single touch. Everything, even if some bits were a bit blurry and fuzzy. The night had started great and, regrettably, ended just as wonderfully. The problem lay-in the fact that it _did_ end so well - the complications that sleeping beside someone, kissing someone, arose. Aoba was the type to mess around but he didn't seem the type to crash in the same bed as some dude without a reason. Maybe it really was the couch and maybe it _was_ just a shared moment of weakness. Whatever it was, it could either be nudged under the rug or it could escalate, for better or worse. And the fact that Noiz wasn't sure what he wanted scared him. 

Usually it was so easy to push someone away, to forget, but the feel of Aoba's lips remained stamped to his mouth like a disease. It was truly unfortunate.

"Yo, brat."

Apparently Aoba didn't believe in privacy. Why was Noiz surprised at this point? He grunted in response.

"Yeah, fuck you too, buddy. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Aoba grumbled, loud enough on purpose, before continuing a bit clearer, "Your Coil keeps blowing up."

"Who is it?"

"Hell if I know. I didn't check."

"Then look."

There was something different - something bland, icy about Noiz's tone.

Noiz didn't hear Aoba respond. What he heard instead was the sound of echoing footsteps in too empty of an apartment, followed by the fumbling of something in the living room, and then finally the slam of a door. Perhaps slam wasn't the best word, as it sounded like the door nearly tore off its hinges in its haste to close.

It didn't take a genius to realize that Aoba had left, and the furrow of Noiz's brows made it clear that it was obvious that Aoba was upset, too.

And it bothered him. Because he was the reason, the cause, and it brought a heaviness to his chest that he hadn't felt since Germany.

* * *

"We're your biggest fans, after all."

"Yes. We adore you dearly, Aoba."

"I told you, don't call me that. It's _Sly Blue_."

"Ah. Of course, Aoba."

"Tch…"

Aoba slumped back against the wall hard, nearly smacking his head against the brick, too. His eyes screwed shut and he tried to block out the sounds around him. He had followed the 'twins' to some sort of weird Rhyme gathering - a party, really. Something about the way they spoke in cadence grated every single nerve Aoba had left. Today had not gone as planned, if the permanent scowl on his face was any indication. They had offered him some of the drugs they had managed to accumulate since the last time the three of them hung out, but Aoba had declined, vaguely remembering Noiz telling him to 'cut the shit'. Why he was listening to the selfish brat's advice was beyond him, and when he realized that he had said no _because_ of Noiz, it had aided in dampening his mood even further. 

"I'm getting a drink, try not to fuck anything up while I'm gone," Aoba said as he pushed back off the wall.

Navigating through the crowd was difficult. The acidic smell of blood reached his nose, alerting him of some fist fight happening in the back of the apartment. Considering the yakuza twins were here, it wasn't much of a surprise. When Aoba finally made his way to the kitchen, he became acutely aware of the smell of stale smoke on his hoodie and the lingering, sharp smell of marijuana. After the mild hangover from earlier that day, he really didn't want to be reminded of the previous night's events. Or the sharp green eyes that appeared whenever he closed his own.

"Yo, Aoba!"

Aoba narrowed his eyes at the red solo cup in front of him when his birth-name echoed through the cramped kitchen. He promptly began pouring the rum faster.

"Whoa, isn't that a bit much?"

"I do as I want."

Aoba continued his liberal pour, blinking, expression unchanged as he killed the bottle of cheap liquor. A taller gentleman joined his side, wearing a jacket straight from the nineties. Studs lined every single piece of the black and red fabric, begging the question if he was overcompensating for something. 

"Of course," the stranger said, chuckling. He set his tanned hands down on the counter and eyed the contents of Aoba's cup. "You sure that's gonna be okay?"

"Nope," Aoba said stiffly. "That's kinda the idea."

The stranger frowned, dark auburn bangs doing a poor job to hide the concern in his eyes. "What's wrong? Did Tae get on you again for--"

"Nothing about that old woman, Mizuki," Aoba said, sigh laced with absolute exhaustion. He reached for the cola next and filled is cup up the rest of the way. "It's a shitty week. Drop it."

"Sorry, but I kinda don't wanna see you drink yourself to death. No offense." 

"None taken."

Aoba tipped his head back and chugged at least a third of the cup before slamming it back down. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and finally fixed Mizuki with the same scowl he had been carrying all day.

"Who'd you come here with?"

"The stalker twins," Aoba said and propped his elbows up on the counter and leaned his chin down in the gully his hands made. "They're trying to get me to come with them tomorrow or somethin'. Dunno what it's about."

"They're bad news," Mizuki said in cautious agreement and took a tiny sip of his own beverage.

"You only say that because you're an old Ribster geezer." Aoba looked out of the corner of his gleaming eyes.

"Wow. What a brat," Mizuki laughed and promptly shook his head.

"Uh-huh. So, why are you even here?"

"Keeping up appearances and that. Even if I don't Rhyme, it helps to keep promoting Dry Juice." A pause. "That, and I never turn down free alcohol."

"Touche." 

There was a heavy silence that wafted in after that as the pair sipped casually at their alcohol. The beat of the music surrounded them, acting as a thin veil of entertainment But it didn't really work as much as either of them would have liked it. It was Mizuki who cracked first and he cleared his throat unnecessarily loud. 

"I heard you've been hanging around RuffRabbit."

Aoba's expression dropped further than it already had been. "Who the fuck told you that?"

"Whoa! Don't kill the messenger, geez." There was a nervous laugh that ensued. "I just heard someone mention that you were at a party with one of the members or something. Was curious if you had finally joined a team."

"No. I haven't. And I won't join yours, either." Aoba reached for his drink, grip tight and squeezing at the plastic cup. "And this booze sucks."

"Hey, I get it, I get it."

"Good." A shake of his head. Desperate to change the subject, "So, how's the team, anyway? You guys been defeated yet?"

"Very funny." Mizuki looked off to the throng of people off to the side. "We're doing fine. Thanks for asking."

"Mhm." Aoba quieted, tongue peeking out to wet his lips. 

"Y'know, I hate to ask, but that guy you were with. Someone mentioned that he's kinda bad news and gets around a lot. So..."

Mizuki was cut off as Aoba's Coil dinged loudly, indicating a new message. The Rhymer was tempted to ignore it but curiosity won and he fiddled with the buttons on it to open up the menu screen to access the message. Surprisingly, it was from the last person he wanted to talk to - to think about - at this second. Especially when he had so much alcohol in his system, and especially after what Mizuki had _just said_.

"Another Rhyme invite?" Mizuki joked, head craned forward to try and peer at the hologram floating in front of the pair of them.

Aoba quickly closed it, expression having morphed. The cold scowl had lifted and instead now lingered a blank expression. Yet, at the corner of his eyes, there was a stinging redness. His lips pursed tight together and he tore his eyes away from Mizuki. Clumsily, he tried to lean back against the counter but misjudged the distance and nearly fell to the floor.

"Hey, Aoba, maybe you should go home. I know Tae's worried--"

"Shut the fuck _up_ ," he snapped, voice cracking. Frantic eyes searched for his red cup and he drained the rest of the contents. Apparently it was too much, as he began coughing uncontrollably. 

"Aoba?"

"Don't call me that," he hissed, covering his mouth again. "Tell the idiots I'm leaving."

And with that, Aoba fumbled out of the kitchen and then the apartment, pushing past drunkards and druggies in his way.

* * *

"Hi."

Aoba was out of breath from the run over so he said nothing in response. Looking back, he hadn't had a reason to run and he felt a bit stupid to be red in the face, alcohol flushed, panting like a maniac at Noiz's doorstep. His hair was a mess from the party he had been at earlier with Trip and Virus and he was regretting just how much rum he managed to slam into his drink. Maybe the night before had tempered him and given him some semblance of a tolerance, but he wasn't quite sure if it'd hold. Despite it, his eyes refused to lift up to meet Noiz's and he ended up glaring down at the bare feet of the blonde in front of him.

"You left earlier."

Aoba wanted to lift his head up, to bare his teeth and snap and fight, but he was out of energy and _tired_. And maybe he had been tired all along, ever since he met Noiz. Maybe he had been tired of getting into brawls. Maybe he was tired of sleeping on couches, of coming home to his 'house' with bloody fists and black eyes. Maybe he was tired of Rhyme, too. Maybe he was just as tired of the world as it apparently was of him. 

"Without saying goodbye."

The last bit finally tore Aoba out of his violent spiral of thoughts. Without thinking, he looked up and focused on Noiz's snakebites. It was easier than meeting his gaze. Anything was easier than that.

"So? Who said I had to tell you my every move?"

"No one."

"Exactly," Aoba concurred and swallowed, thickly, his words not exactly slurring but not exactly coherent either. "So just fuck off, okay? What'd you even want? I was busy." But I still came. For you. 

"Getting drunk?" Noiz asked, a lame smirk creeping up on the edges of his lips. "Didn't you get enough of that last night?"

"Brat, don't you _dare_ try and tell me how to live my life," Aoba hissed through clenched teeth. His hands grew into fists at his side and on instinct he flew forward to try and aim one at Noiz's jaw. Thankfully, for the both of them, Noiz foresaw it and stepped out of the way and lifted his own hand to catch Aoba's wrist. The punch landed nowhere.

"If anyone should be upset, it's me." Noiz rolled his eyes. 

"For _what_? You're the one that acted like an ass this morning--" 

He said too much. 

Aoba recoiled, actual fear in his eyes, and he tried to rip his wrist free. "Let _go_ , you asshole!"

"Now, were you jealous I was getting so many calls, or were you upset that I didn't invite you into the shower?"

"Neither, you fucking moron. Just let me go!" Aoba's voice grew darker, stronger. " _Or I'll break you_."

Noiz blinked and did as instructed. There was something commanding, something all powerful about that voice, and it left Noiz powerless. He dropped Aoba's wrist and watched as Aoba possessively drew his arm close his body. It didn't last, because Aoba threw himself Noiz a second time in mere seconds after. This time not with fists of rage, but with a hot, searing kiss, full of teeth and lips and unspoken desires.

The sheer force slammed Noiz back against the nearest counter. 

Noiz's arms flew out to his sides, uselessly, and then settled around Aoba's middle, holding him close as he eagerly returned the barrage of bruising kisses. It was messy and it was probably more biting than either of them had intended. There was a faint taste of metal, too, at one point and Noiz speculated that one of them was bleeding. Apparently it didn't matter enough because the kissing continued just as viciously as it had begun.

Finally, Aoba pulled away, lips puffy. At the very corner was a cut, smeared with blood, which Noiz leaned forward to lick away swiftly.

"Brat, what was that for…" Aoba said, face turning red and oddly flustering. His hands reached out to push lightly at the blonde's chest. When the push didn't succeed, they lingered there, clutching the thin fabric.

"You taste good."

"What a weirdo," Aoba huffed, loudly, and looked away. His cheeks stained red, he tried to pull away again, but Noiz's arms around him kept him close. "What?"

They both knew they were going to ignore last night, ignore this morning, ignore the reason Aoba was pissed off and left, _and_ ignore why Noiz had invited him back. And why Aoba had come back.

It was, needless to say, the elephant in the room.

"You can't keep wearing my clothes."

"What the hell--"

"Let's go to your place."

"What?" 

Panic flared up in Aoba and he gave a harder shove at Noiz's chest. "No. I don't live there. That's a stupid idea, Noiz." He frowned, the anger from earlier fading. Still, Mizuki's words clawed at his mind, stomach churning in the process. "Besides, my Grandmother's probably asleep already."

"Your Grandmother," Noiz echoed, letting the word tickle the tip of his tongue for a second or two, before he reached for Aoba's wrist yet again. "Let's go."

"I _just said_ …."

"Not to stay. To grab some of your clothes."

Oh. _Oh._

"If you're going to be mooching off my wifi and food, at least bring your own clothes."

Oh.

Aoba swallowed, hard, and numbly nodded.

He didn't say a single word the walk over.

* * *

It was a miracle.

A godforsaken miracle.

Not only did Tae refrain from smacking Aoba upside the head, but she baked the pair of them some donuts (even at this ugly hour), shared a few warm words with Noiz, and then retired to bed, telling them they could stay the night and that the guest futon was in Aoba's room. 

Aoba lingered in the kitchen, watching Tae disappear into the darkness of the tiny house. His fingers clutched at the edges of his shirt - Noiz's shirt - and he licked his lips clean of the sugar from the donuts. Nothing made sense.

"She likes you," Aoba began, slowly, skeptically. "She liked you enough not to beat the shit out of me."

"What?" Noiz looked up from the large plate of donuts he was making quick work on.

"She didn't yell at me for coming home drunk or not calling," Aoba continued, voice dropping to a quiet whisper. "She just talked to you. And made you food." A beat. "She likes you."

Noiz didn't answer and continued eating, gaze roaming over Aoba's back that was currently turned to him. Figuring it was safe, Noiz focused all of his attention back on his meal, remarking occasionally to himself how sweet they were and how he'd have to thank Tae in the morning, again, for her hospitality and for making him try something new to him. He didn't even hear Aoba walk over to him.

"We're going upstairs."

"…'kay."

Noiz got up from the kitchen table and allowed Aoba to drag him up the stairs and into the small bedroom. It was very blue and it wasn't what he was expecting at all from someone dangerous and edgy like Aoba. In fact, it looked like a normal bedroom, like a room that belonged to a normal teenage boy. There was something about that and Noiz was in the process of storing away the information in his head when Aoba pushed him up against the door.

"I figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

"You."

Aoba reached down for Noiz's hand and dug his nails into his palm without warning. When Noiz refused to flinch, Aoba sucked in a deep breath, licked his lips, and looked away.

"How long have you been like this, anyway?"

"Been like what?"

"Don't fuckin' treat me like a child. You know what I'm talking about." There was a desperation in Aoba's voice - one that Noiz knew too well, one that screamed, _Don't treat me like everyone else_.

Noiz's indifference slowly faded and his voice dropped to a softer, quieter level, "As long as I can remember. It's not a big deal. Not anymore. It's whatever."

"It's a big deal. You can't feel anything," Aoba responded, annoyed, brows furrowing and knitting together. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It didn't seem relevant."

The words stung and Aoba was about to slam his foot hard against Noiz's but then realized he wouldn't feel it anyway. The punishment was pointless. His stomach knotted. "It's relevant."

"Why?" His nose wrinkled, and then his expression darkened and a rather empty chuckle left Noiz. His arms reached up to push lightly at Aoba. "Are you going to call me a monster? Abnormal? Are you going to use the fact that I can't feel pain as--"

"If I can't do heroine, you can't keep getting into stupid fights and hurting yourself."

"…What?"

Aoba narrowed his eyes, refusing to be shoved away. Metaphorically or physically. "You told me a few days ago that I can't keep killing myself with that shit. So you can't either, brat. Deal with it."

"I don't-" Get it. 

"You don't need to." Not tonight. Not right now.

Aoba grabbed Noiz's wrist and lead him to the bed. Wordlessly, Aoba sat down on the edge of the bed and tugged Noiz on top of him. His lips sealed over his, briefly, and then found refuge along Noiz's jaw, neck, and then collarbones. Aoba was in the middle of snaking his hands down to Noiz's shirt when panic set in again. Here he was, sharing secrets with this brat that he knew for barely a month now. Here he was, in his childhood bedroom, making out with a German guy who couldn't feel a thing, who had kindly let him crash at his place for the last few weeks. The guy that refused to take advantage of him, the guy who had smoked with him, drank with him, amused him and kept him on his toes.

It hit him hard, both the panic and the realization. His head throbbed and he dropped his forehead to rest on Noiz's chest, hands stilling. He listened to the heartbeat he found there, eyes tightly screwed shut. Despite his best efforts, he had grown attached. Mizuki and Koujaku and Granny were easy enough to remain attached to, because he kept it at a level that wouldn't devastate him if they were to up and disappear - like his parents had. And yet here he was, in his bed, with a guy who had managed to take a sledgehammer to his walls when he wasn't looking.

Frankly, it should have been obvious. Rather, it should have been obvious after last night when he kissed him with no intention of having sex, and slept him, with no intention of fucking around, with only the intention of waking up next to someone else, someone warm, someone alive.

Not waking up alone in a cold place.

"Aoba?"

It was rare that Noiz used his name and it stung even more, knotting his stomach further. He wanted to run away. Run so far and destroy minds and escape. The alcohol from earlier was wearing off and that boldness was creeping away, too. It had been so easy earlier to slam Noiz against the counter and make out with him. It and been so easy to confront everything when he had rum pounding through his veins.

Now, he was sober and scared and not as invinciblecible as he liked to think he was. 

"Leave it alone," Aoba said in a weak, tired whisper. "Just leave it alone, Noiz. Leave _me_ alone."

The voice was the sound of a broken teenager, not a blood thirsty, maniac killer. Noiz could only tell the difference because he had been in that place once, too. 

"Oi…" Noiz wrinkled his nose and shifted, soft lips pressing against Aoba's temple. "It's too late for that."

"Too late for what?"

The hand that had been stroking his back - when did Noiz start doing that, anyway? - stilled. "To stop."

Oh. Aoba tensed, staring into Noiz's shirt. He wanted to cry and at the same time he wanted to laugh. It was really a laughable situation he had gotten himself into here. "Y'know, I wanted you to hate me, bunny boy. I wanted you to get so mad at me this morning that you never talked to me again. I thought it was gonna work, too, after you woke up and started acting like a prick… I thought I had finally shaken you off me, but…" But then Noiz had sent him that message asking him to come over for dinner, just a simple, casual text and it had wrenched Aoba out of his spiraling, self-destructive fit. "But you fucking messed it up."

Noiz kissed Aoba's temple again, hand resuming its slow, methodical stroking. "Tch… I apparently do that a lot."

Aoba cracked a weak smile into Noiz's chest but otherwise remained still. They were both silent for a solid minute before Aoba finally spoke up, "Hey, Noiz?"

"Yeah?"

 _Don't leave me_. "You haven't been screwin' around since--"

"I haven't."

He didn't let Aoba finish, didn't let him stumble on the difficult words.

Aoba smiled, certain that Noiz couldn't see it. It made him happy for some stupid reason. Instead of saying what he wanted to, of saying, ' _Then be with me. For real'_ he breathed out a simple, " … 'kay." Almost _shyly_ , Aoba's arms wrapped around Noiz and hugged him, held him close, and his heavy breathing evened out once more. "I won't be gone in the morning this time." _If you'll stay_.

Noiz was certain this conversation wasn't over, far from over, as they both hadn't said what they truly wanted to, what they truly wanted to ask, but for now it was good enough. For now, it was as close as to a confirmation, a confession, they were both coming to. Noiz licked his lips and nodded. "Yeah. 'Cause I'd beat your scrawny ass if you did," he said in monotone.

Aoba snorted. "If you say so, bunny boy."

They'd talk tomorrow. They'd work things out tomorrow.

But for now, Aoba was tired and wanted sleep and Noiz was warm and here and maybe, just maybe, he could risk attachment. Just this once. 

As they laid down for rest, Noiz's fingers found Aoba's and threaded them together, sliding into the cold spaces. The grip was gentle, fragile - just as fragile as both of them - and neither said anything about it. But, it remained until they both fell asleep, listening to each other's breathing in the silence that surrounded them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A FILLER CHAPTER.  
> it just needs to happen before the drama unfolds in the next few.  
> BUT THIS CHAPTER IS IMPORTANT I GUESS????????  
> i mean for your shippers it is.

When Noiz awoke the next morning, it wasn’t to an empty bed or an alarm. Rather, it was to a usually bratty teenager curled up against him, leg slung over his, face buried against his arm, looking more peaceful than Noiz had ever seen him. It was quite the sight, really. Despite the strong urge to get up and head to the bathroom, he remained where he was, eerily still. Frankly, he feared that moving would shatter the moment and he just wasn’t quite ready for that yet. He wanted to observe Aoba’s expression more. 

He hadn’t noticed it before. When Aoba slept, his chronic scowl was gone and his features softened. His hair splayed over his shoulders and onto Noiz, along his arms and chest; Aoba was naturally warm and diminished the need for blankets. Noiz didn’t have the heart to disrupt him. And maybe he was just a bit selfish, too, and wanted to live in this moment for as long as fate allowed him. 

Of course, fate was cruel this morning and Noiz’s Coil rang. He had apparently put the volume on max when Aoba was last out and hadn’t thought to turn it off before bed. Now, the sound cut through him like an air siren.

“Can you turn that off already?” Aoba whined, clutching on to Noiz’s sleeve with a firmer, relentless grip.

“Hold on.” Noiz reached over Aoba’s tiny frame and grabbed the Coil off the nightstand. One look confirmed his suspicion – it was one of his lead men reporting back on the information he was supposed to gather the night before. It was something about a startup of some lethal Rhyme group that was taking things a tad too far. Drugging, murdering, things of that general nature. It wouldn’t have been a big deal, wouldn’t have bothered Noiz, but the fact that his men were dropping like flies stirred him into action.

“Yo.” Noiz strapped the Coil to his wrist and allowed the projection of the short-haired, even shorter team member to pop up a few feet in front of his face.

The added light and noise stirred Aoba and he groggily tossed a look up at the projection. The guy wasn’t too bad looking, even from this angle. Probably around twenty or so with short black hair, pretty blue eyes, and a sharp jawline. He had on the ridiculous Ruff Rabbit memorabilia and colors, which really took away from his natural charm. Aoba groaned.

“Do you got a minute, Captain?” Apparently the stranger had heard the groan and that earlier serious expression turned hesitant.

“Yeah. One sec.”

Noiz extracted himself from Aoba’s vice grip easily, much to the blue-haired Rhymer’s dismay, and hopped off the bed. He headed out into the hall, leaving behind a rather irked and grumpy Aoba to curl back up into a cocoon of blankets. 

Once in the hallway of Aoba’s tiny home, Noiz leaned back against the wall and cocked his head to the right. “What did you find out?” His expression was indifferent but his tone held an edge of concern.

“Another snipe last night. After Usui showed up. Dunno how they’re doing it or who they are, but I have my ideas.”

Noiz wrinkled his nose as a frown replaced his indifference. “Any of ours?”

“Nah, not this time.” The man on the screen seemed too contemplative. “We think this has something to do with the yazuka.”

Noiz released a sound that was far from impressed. “I figured.”

“I’ll try and see what I can scrounge up. I heard that anyone who goes too close to these guys gets burnt.”

“Then wear gloves,” Noiz responded blandly and poked his tongue against the inside of his snakebite. “Let me know when you learn anything else.” 

“Are you coming in today?”

In. In to the headquarters they made out of two of the member’s large apartment. It wasn’t a great place and it really was below their means as a team, but it worked. Most of these guys were young adults who hadn’t struck it big elsewhere, all caught up in the moment with Rhyme and their youth. Being lead by a despondent German probably wasn’t their dream come true, but it worked for them for the time being. Just like their shoddy little headquarters.

“Nah. Not today.”

“…Ok.”

There was a hint of suspicion and the man on the other line began to snicker. “Who was that?”

“Who was who?” Noiz blinked, expression blank and tone clueless.

“Hah. Boss, don’t try and play stupid with me. The person in bed with you earlier.” 

There was a sudden blossom of panic in Noiz’s chest. He had never really slept around during his time as leader, and when he did mess around with someone, it was always out in public and never back at his own place, let alone at someone else’s place _overnight_. That was far too risky, far too easy to be caught of guard an killed. Even still, not even his teammates had been over to check out the place – well, most of them, anyway. And he hadn’t been over theirs, either. It was a mutual understanding. It was accepted that Noiz liked his privacy as much as he liked crashing into elitists in Rhyme.

“So? Was that him? Sly Blue?”

Noiz didn’t answer.

“Someone said he saw you two at—”

“Call me when you have something useful to say.”

Noiz promptly ended the Coil call and slumped back even further into the wall. He tried to become one with the tacky wallpaper but found his efforts were in vain. That was the problem with Sly’s tendency to want to throw himself in throngs of people – people talked. And when Rhyme was all about power and reputation and people talking and talking, it was inevitable that a less than decent dance at a party would start up the rumor mill. What didn’t help was that it was true – Sly, no, Aoba, was in his bed, probably back asleep, after having spent the night together again. It wasn’t like they were actually sleeping together, but the thought entertained Noiz a few times. Aoba was more than attractive enough and his voice was deadly enough to make the weak tremble. It allured him and that was dangerous – getting burnt was a very real possibility, and he wasn’t sure which would be worse: a burn from the yazuka or Aoba.

It was around that time that Aoba finally decided to show up. He had taken to tossing on Noiz’s hoodie and a pair of sweats. His hair was pulled back in a messy bun and bags were starting to show under his eyes.

“That’s a cute look,” Noiz commented when he looked away from the ceiling. He clicked his tongue once, arching a brow as he not-so-subtly let his gaze rake over Aoba.

“Wow. Shut up,” Aoba grumbled and flicked his gaze away irritably. “Who called, anyway?”

“No one.”

Aoba frowned. In a huff, he rolled his eyes, turned on his heel, and headed back down the hall. “Get ready, brat. We’re visiting a friend.” The bathroom door shut shortly after.

It occurred to Noiz how his response may have come off as suspicious or rude far too late. The blonde merely stared at the empty spot Aoba had been, replaying the other day’s events in his head. Was that why Aoba was so upset and had left? Because he was getting an attitude over some guy pestering him and then Noiz acting cold? It made sense, especially with what Aoba had said the other night. Something about wanting to push him away but being unable to. 

He’d need further elaboration on that.

* * *

Aoba seemed more intent than usual to keep an eye on Noiz’s coil. If Noiz hadn’t found it cute, he would have been annoyed. And he probably would have been annoyed that Aoba was dragging him off to a bar at three in the afternoon, but he had a soft spot for him all of a sudden, and he _was_ rather curious to see what Aoba considered a “friend”. Did he himself fall under that category? Was Aoba this friendly with all his “friends”?

When they arrived, Noiz realized that it wasn’t exactly a bar but a tattoo parlor with a bar inside. Something called the Black Needle. Aoba lead them inside with a prideful saunter, ignoring the workers as he headed to the back portion of the shop where the tiny bar was. 

“Yo, Mizuki.”

On cue, a dark-haired redhead showed up with a towel slung over his shoulder and a glass in hand. He seemed to be in the middle of drying glasses from a hidden dishwasher, but his eyes lit up the moment he spotted the strange duo. The light in his eyes dimmed momentarily when it settled on Noiz, recognition flooding him with the force of a tidal wave.

“…You brought company?” Mizuki chuckled as he set both the towel and glass down on the countertop. He extended his hand out for Noiz, who proceeded to gawk at it quizzically.

“…Oi. German. You shake them here.” Aoba gently nudged Noiz in the side and gestured with his eyes at the hand floating awkwardly between the three of them. With effort, Noiz extended his and shook Mizuki’s.

“Aoba’s said a lot about you,” Mizuki began as he propped his elbows up on the bar counter, gesturing for the pair to take a seat on the stools. Noiz was more than happy to oblige.

“He has?” Noiz quirked a brow and looked to Aoba who seemed rather distant, face tinged a shade of pink. “You have?”

“It’s nothing, brat. Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Aoba muttered quickly.

“You definitely live up to the expectations Aoba has laid out for you,” Mizuki said.

That remark earned the bartender a quick glare from Aoba. Noiz tried to discern what caused the sudden influx of irritation, but the more he thought about it, the more he didn’t want to know. It was heading down that road, after all. The road he was trying his best not to travel down. 

“What expectations are these?” Noiz asked, fully aware he was poking the bear.

Noiz could feel the burning look aimed at him from Aoba but he didn’t care. Rather, it intrigued him. 

“Haha, just the usual. I’m glad that Aoba has someone taking care of him.”

The comment was meant to be a compliment aimed at the pair, but it sounded flirtatious with the way Mizuki chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. Noiz wondered if Mizuki was like this with everyone – it would make sense, since he was in charge of such a long-standing Rib team that was known for its family-like bond. Still, he quirked a brow.

“It’s Sly,” Aoba said. There was something definite in his eyes – dangerous, edgy. Noiz caught sight of it and it reminded him of that time at the party, that time where Aoba wanted him to wreck him right there on the floor. It was always sobering to remember that the bratty blue-haired boy at his side was a blood-thirsty serial killer capable of destroying minds on a whim. Weirdly enough, it made him all the more alluring.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry,” Mizuki said and shook his head. 

Noiz clicked his tongue and leaned forward, resting his chin down on the top of the tiny roof his hands made. “How long have you known each other?”

“A few years?” Mizuki speculated and tossed Aoba a curious stare. The person in question was downing his drink, trying to distract himself with his Coil, too. It was rather damning. 

Aoba hadn’t stopped bristling from earlier. In fact, he seemed even more perturbed than he was earlier. There was a permanent crease in his brows and the way he leaned forward on the stool, eyes dark and swirling, spelt out unspoken threat.

“We met during a Rhyme game.”

That information caused Noiz to lower his glass. “You Rhyme? I thought you were a Ribster.”

“Yeah. I am.” Mizuki shook his head and pressed his palms down on the bar top and proceeded to lean back. “The game was near my shop and I happened to run into him afterward.” He gestured with his thumb towards the rather grumpy looking teenager.

“Yeah. And you were beating the shit out of some other Ribster. It was kinda hot,” Aoba said, snorting shortly thereafter. 

Noiz looked back to Aoba, trying to discern whether he was being serious or not. When he realized what he was doing, he tensed up a fraction – when did it become so important to him whether or not Aoba flirted with someone else. By all means, it would be beneficial if Aoba flirted with other people – it’d lessen the heaviness surrounding them after that night of making out, after that night of shared starts of secrets.

An idea pricked at Noiz’s mind and the brat clicked his tongue, sharp green eyes landing on Mizuki. “Tch. Wish I coulda been there to see that.”

It was a bland statement, but it had en edge of forced interest. Aoba seemed to notice it because he went tense again, bristling like a tiny animal. He glowered, good mood vanishing.

“Cut it out.”

“Huh?” Mizuki seemed downright confused. There was a faint red of embarrassment on his face, nothing more than from simple flattery, but it seemed the bartender was being dragged into a silent war waging between two stubborn morons.

“Stop being a dick,” Aoba said, darkly, to Noiz’s general direction. It seemed to hit a nerve.

“Aoba…?” Mizuki questioned but he was shushed when Aoba downed the remainder of his drink, slammed the glass down with a loud clink, and muttered for a whiskey and ginger. Hesitantly, the Dry Juice leader filled it up and handed it back to come, murmuring a hushed, “You okay?”

“Just peachy,” Aoba mumbled as he took a leisurely sip, not even bothering this time to correct Mizuki.

Apparently Aoba had gone from wanting to introduce Noiz to his friend to a territorial brat. Which just confirmed Noiz’s growing suspicions. He licked at his lips, toying with a snakebite, thinking it through. Wasn’t he the same, though, when he had thought for a blip of a second that Aoba was into Mizuki? His head hurt, it throbbed, and he wondered just why he was becoming so entangled with a dangerous Rhymer.

“Did you want anything else?” It was Mizuki who asked him this time, meeting his eyes with one that screamed _I know_.

Noiz hesitated. He hadn’t exactly pegged this guy as being smart, quick, bright, but apparently he could read between the lines. And maybe it was obvious.

“Just give me somethin’ strong,” Noiz conceded, both to the drink and to his fate of getting plastered with Aoba for the walk back to his apartment.

Mizuki didn’t seem to mind too much. In fact, he seemed to like the company and the chance to get to know Noiz.

* * *

“Fucking… you are a fucking tool.”

Aoba wagged his hand menacingly in the air. They were on their way back from the Black Needle. They had been there for a good six hours and now, with darkness blanketing the city and with enough booze in their systems to be efficiently intoxicated, it was a good time to head back to Noiz’s place. That was the plan.

Aoba staggered all over the place, pretty blue hair falling out of the messy bun it had been up in earlier. Both Aoba’s breath and his hoodie – Noiz’s hoodie – smelt of a sinful concoction of whiskey and rum. Noiz was no better, but was a great deal calmer, walking with slow and deliberate steps.

Still, the insult caught the blonde off guard and he tossed Aoba a bewildered stare.

“I said,” Aoba repeated, huffing, “That you’re a tool.”

“For what?”

“A tool. Y’know, a frickin’ playboy or something,” Aoba clarified, aggressively waving his hand towards Noiz’s face. 

By that point, the pair had reached Noiz’s apartment complex and were standing outside, likely about to get into another pointless argument. Noiz was too drunk for this, he realized belatedly, and regretted prying about Aoba’s offhanded comment.

“But why?”

He just couldn’t let it go.

“Because you… were frickin’ all over him,” Aoba said, stopping midway before steamrolling on with haughty confidence. 

“And?”

“And what, punk?”

“And what about it?”

“I didn’t fuckin’ like it, that’s what,” Aoba said as he effectively blocked the entrance to the edifice with his body. His back slumped against the cold handles of the door and the backs of his heels dug against the wearing, rotting wood at its base.

“I want to sit down.”

“We’re having a conversation!” Aoba all but shouted, golden eyes dangerously glinting. “So just…”

“What?”

“Just fuckin’… react, ok? Don’t just stand there all cool and be an ass. What is it going to take to get through your fuckin’ thick head?”

Noiz was befuddled, aghast, confused. He didn’t know what Aoba was getting at, other than he was possessive and didn’t want Noiz and his friend – his seemingly only other friend – messing around. It was a logical request. But the jealousy from earlier, from when he had been on the phone with his team-mate, resurfaced and nagged at Noiz. That wasn’t standard behavior.

“Get what through my head?”

He was baiting him.

“Do I hafta suck your dick? Get down on my knees like the whore they all think I am? ‘Cause I’m not. I haven’t even been with a guy before so just fuck you, ok?”

The confession, mixed in with all that hatred and superiority, took Noiz aback.

Aoba seemed broken in that moment. It was quick, but it was there. He was vulnerable, young, beautiful. His head hung low and at the edges of his eyes were hot, hot tears. His nose sniffed and his fists curled up into tight fists. A shudder wrecked through his body and Noiz realized a bit too late that Aoba was trying not to cry. He had never seen him such a wreck.

“So just fuck you,” Aoba whispered, voice detached, dejected, broken. “I don’t need you. I don’t need you or Mizuki or that fuckin’ hippo, or those stupid twins. I just need myself.”

It was so quiet that Noiz barely heard it. His first instinct was to ask Aoba to repeat himself, but he had enough common sense and social awareness to comprehend it was a bad idea. Besides… he had heard every word. He just didn’t believe it.

“Aoba…”

He reached out to touch him but Aoba flinched.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me, Noiz.”

Noiz faltered for a second but reached forward again, snatched Aoba’s wrist,and brought him inside. Brought him up to the apartment and closed the door after both of them, the lock clicking with a resonating sound.

The apartment was quiet, eerily quiet, and Aoba instantly jerked away. Albeit drunkenly, but he managed to detangle himself from Noiz and press his own back flat against the door. 

“What do you want?” Aoba breathed, words slurring but eyes eerily sober.

“What?”

“What do you want, Noiz?”

It was a loaded question. It was like handing him a loaded gun, safety off, pointed straight at his own heart. One false move, one stutter, could kill him. His throat was dry and despite the alcohol coursing through him, the answer wasn’t clear. He had never wanted anything before, hadn’t needed anything before. His whole reason for coming to Midorijama was to escape, was to prove his parents wrong and _survive_. Fuck anyone else.

But in that pursuit he had just been as lonely as he had been in that stifling bedroom. So what was the point? Who would—

“I’m a monster.”

Who would care about a monster?

“The fuck…?” Aoba’s anger, Aoba’s desperation, flickered and he stared confusedly at the German. “What?”

“I’m a monster,” Noiz repeated, wringing his wrists as his tongue poked out to wet his lips. “So it’s best if you don’t hang around. Or whatever. I don’t care.”

That was a lie. That was a huge lie and he knew it. He hadn’t meant to get attached, had wanted to maintain his cold indifference, but Aoba was different. 

“Bull. Look me in the eye—”

“I’m—”

“You’re not a monster, you moron. You’re my friend.” Aoba swallowed audibly, a large clump of nerves, and steeled his gaze on Noiz. 

Friend. No one had called him that before. And no one had offered to stay in the morning, no one had cared if he messed around or not. He trembled. If anything, he regretted the alcohol pounding through him because his vision was blurry, his decisions were impulsive, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to --

Well, apparently Noiz was acting on those whims because before he knew it, he had stepped forward and caught Aoba's wrists, effectively pinning them up above the rogue's head. Aoba didn't fight it, all stubborn and huffy and glaring, watching Noiz like a hawk, daring him to question "friends", their meaning. _I dare you_ his drunken gold eyes hollered but Noiz wasn't looking for an argument, not tonight. His bony fingers held on tight to Aoba's even bonier wrists and he observed him, smelt him, felt what it was like to press Aoba against a door like this. It was suffocating and warm and everything he had imagined it to be in the glimpses of twilight between dream and reality.

"If you have a problem with that, suck it," Aoba breathed out childishly, nose wrinkling. He was still hung up on the idea of friendship and he gave his wrists a tiny little tug, halfhearted. 

Noiz, on the other hand, watched as the eagerness to get away faded from Aoba's eyes. It was pretty simple.

"Is it through your head, yet?" Aoba asked, eyes still narrowed but lashes too long, too lidded to mean any harm. His lips parted, begging, begging to be touched. Softly.

"Is what through my head?"

Aoba sighed, as if utterly aggravated, but instead leaned up on his toes to make up for their height difference. Clumsily, with the aid of old Jack Daniels, he hoisted himself up tall enough so he could brush their lips together, stealing Noiz's breath. It worked.

The kiss was just like that one the other night on the couch - simple, pure, just because. Noiz's grip on Aoba's wrists fell and he stared in confusion, even whilst the kiss went on. His eyes never shut and his poor mind tried to catch up, tried to figure out just what was going on, and why he suddenly felt _happy_. Maybe he was getting sick.

"You're not allowed to mess around with Mizuki, is what," Aoba breathed against Noiz's lips, lightly nibbling on his lower lip as his arms circled around Noiz's neck. He remained on his tiptoes, chest pressed flush to the blonde's. The kiss was dangerously soft, dangerously alluring, and he could feel every press of Aoba's curves, every press of his crotch, his heart beating, his too-warm skin underneath _his_ hoodie. Aoba was wonderful--, "Because you're mine."

The words rang like bells, or maybe just something that sounded like bells. Noiz understood, in that second, what Aoba was getting at, what he had been getting at for days now. This was friendship with an added twist-- exclusive.

"Are you asking me out, Sly Blue?" Noiz deadpanned, tongue flicking out to slide against Aoba's for just a second after he spoke. His hand glided up to Aoba's cheek and gently brushed his fingers against it. Soft. It was so soft and Aoba was so very pretty, so perfectly flawed and effortlessly wonderful. Noiz couldn't help but want this, want him, want everything about this. It was inevitable and the more he thought about it, the more he should have realized it the moment he started letting Sly in. 

He was inexplicably falling in love

Heat rose up in Aoba's face and he scoffed, tipping his head down to hide it against the curve of Noiz's neck. He hid there, hid from the world, hid the fact he was about to cry from the exhaustive emotions. He hid against Noiz and Noiz held him close, protected him. Just like he had always wanted someone to, "Well fuck, maybe I am. What are you going to do about it, brat?"

"Say yes."

And that was how, both a drunken, tired, emotional mess, they started dating.

All before things went sour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT NEXT CHAPTER.   
> I PROMISE YOU EXPLICIT DEEDS NEXT CHAPTER.  
> so make me happy and leave a comment or something uhm?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things happen.  
> steamy things happen.  
> and this is likely the last happy chapter for awhile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!!!  
> this chapter contains graphic sex and violence.  
> if you're squeamish on gore, or if you prefer not to read explicit sex, please be warned ahead of time.  
> the sex is consensual, for those who are worried about that.
> 
> THIS SCENE TURNED INTO A GIANT.  
> i haven't written anything this long or detailed in awhile.  
> please enjoy it????

“Yo.”

Trying to activate a Coil when a mop of blue hair was nestled against his chest was more difficult than he could have ever imagined. They had just gotten done with lunch – delivery pizza, naturally – and Aoba had curled up on the couch and unceremoniously began using his boyfriend’s chest as a pillow. Not like Nioz particularly minded. Simply put, he was unused to the casual affection, the simplicity, the warmth. But it was oddly comforting.

“Hey, Captain,” the man from the day before greeted when the screen flickered on. There was some static, but Noiz didn't particularly care. 

“Any updates?”

“Yeah.” The man’s eyes turned too sharply to the left and his bottom lip worried. “About that.”

“What?”

“Can you come down? We think the yakuza are trying to get into headquarters and we want you to run a sweep of the security systems again.”

Noiz hesitated. Under any other circumstances he would have leapt at the opportunity to tinker with his own coding and debunk the pain in the asses. Today, though, he had a strangely affectionate boy curled up on him, napping his life away.

“Aoba?”

No answer.

Noiz came to the realization he had said that aloud with his man still on the line. He turned his attention back to his Coil and he frowned. “Now?”

“We aren’t sure if the rumors are true or not, but it’s best to be careful, right, boss?”

That was true, he supposed. It was also true that Aoba smelt like a mix of Noiz’s peppermint shampoo and something heavier. It was hard to nudge him off without waking him up. Just about as hard as it was to rip himself away in the first place.

Noiz headed back to his room to grab his hoodie and a few precautions, “All right. I’ll be there.”

* * *

He hadn’t expected it to be a trap.

Then again, maybe his obsession with Sly Blue had clouded his judgment.

Either way, he should have suspected something when his member had mentioned a, “sweep of the security systems” because no one knew them better than Noiz and no one would dare question his expertise.

Upon entering headquarters, a heavy metal – what he assumed was metal – pipe came whipping at him. It made contact with his upper shoulder. The impact made a deafening cracking noise and as Nioz’s gaze swept the room - all his members, all that green and black and white tied up in ropes – he saw the horror in their eyes. They knew their boss was tough, that was obvious, but they had no idea he couldn’t feel at all.

And maybe now they did.

“Such a shame, you would have made a wonderful addition.”

“My, my… a pretty young boy, too.”

“Too young for a leader.”

“Yes.”

Noiz remained firmly planted where he was, reaching to his side with his good arm to feel the most-definitely bleeding injury. It didn’t hurt, nothing hurt, but he imagined something was at least sprained and there was definitely blood. It oozed through his hoodie and dirtied his hands. But that was the least of his problems.

His gaze settled on the two blondes before him, both with their hands in their pockets, standing astute. The air of haughty confidence, he bemused, as he wrinkled his nose.

“What a pain,” Noiz mumbled, eyes narrowed, as both his hands lfited into the air and curled into tight fists.

The looks on their faces, Noiz thought, meant that they _had_ to be twins, despite whatever shit they pulled.

“Ah, so the rumors are true.”

“So it seems.”

“What shall we do about this?”

“Shall we offer him a position?”

“I’m right here,” Noiz said, deadpan, cracking his knuckles. His tongue darted out to trace his lips predatorily and he cocked his head to the right, daring them to get closer. “If you’re done screwing around, leave.”

“He thinks we’re here to scare him.”

“That’s funny.”

Noiz was already getting a headache and he hadn’t been here that long. He was itching to fight, to draw their blood, to drain it, to bash their heads in against the pavement. He wanted to dig his heel down against their faces, bruise their pretty little eyes, tug and pull out that stupid fake hair. He wanted to be their demise, to put them in their places. His breathing grew heavier.

“Too bad he’s a snitch.”

“A little rabbit, I suppose.”

Snitch? He supposed that was accurate, given the information field he was in. The word still tasted sour on his tongue and it reminded him of the brutality of his mother back when he wasn’t locked up in his own personal hell.

Around that time, around the time that dark thought crept into his mind and began feeding his carnivorous appetite for violence, his Coil went off. And it kept going off and off and off.

“Perhaps you should answer that.”

“Yes, Noiz, maybe you should answer that.”

Noiz spared it a quick, cursory look out of habit. He wasn’t going to pick up but—But it was Aoba. It was Aoba’s number and Aoba’s name on the screen and he felt the pit of his stomach drop. He had someone now – he had someone that seemingly cared, that he was involved with, that touched him softly and gave him the attention he had craved from a young age. He had someone special, he supposed, and the realization that he was being ruthlessly carefree and clumsy here, putting himself in danger, hit him in the gut harder than any steel pipe could.

“What’s wrong? Bad news?”

The taunting was spoken in such a lilt, such a conversational tone that it churned Noiz’s stomach. His teeth were already grinding and he had to check the urge to answer the Coil and reassure the cute little brat that he was fine and he’d be back soon.

“Maybe we’ll make it quick for him, then. Take him out of his misery?”

“That seems good.”

A punch was sent straight at his jaw when he was distracted with thoughts of Aoba. The force of it – since Trip was so obviously larger than him – sent him to the ground. He curled in on himself, his heart and chest pounding like an explosion was imminent. He hadn’t felt like this before. 

Was this genuine fear?

“It’d be helpful if you cooperated and gave us the information we want.”

Noiz spat at the ground, shifting up on his knees so he could toss the pair a vicious glare. He was already banged up, bruised, and there was no way Aoba wouldn’t notice all of this. The knot in his stomach grew and he clicked his tongue.

“It’d help if you mentioned what you wanted to know. Everything’s at a price.”

“A young businessman,” Virus said and he stepped closer, the tips of his shoes touching Noiz’s kneecaps. He looked down behind dark rimmed-glasses before he crouched down to Noiz’s level. He figured this was meant as a metaphor.

“It’d be a shame if something happened to your brother. He’s…sixteen now, isn’t he? In the prime of his life?”

The knot grew. Something other than Aoba, something other than his own selfishness, got to him and his eyes widened. How did they know? How could they possibly know? There were no ties back, no evident connections. He blinked very slowly, watching as lights lit up In Virus’ eyes. He knew he had been had.

“Klaud, was it? He looks like the spitting image of you.”

Noiz tried to swallow but he couldn’t – his throat had gone completely and utterly dry.

“Don’t…” Noiz began, voice cracking to his own disbelief.

“I think we’ve hit a weak spot.”

“Yes.”

“Now, shall we ask you what we want to know?”

“I think we should.”

“You see, we’re very interested in your connection to our dear, dear friend Aoba. We’re prefer it if you stayed away from him and told us everything you knew.”

Aoba, this was all about Aoba in the end? Noiz felt sick, felt his world spinning, and his mind traversed back and forth from Klaud to Aoba. Both were apparently in danger and apparently it was all his fault. He had never felt like more of a monster, more of a damned moron, than now. He wanted to die. Wanted to feel just so he could feel the pain that was panging through him.

“Leave them out of this.”

“Time is ticking, Noiz.”

The urge to expel his stomach’s contents was so strong that he could taste the vile rising to his tongue. The piercing on it tickled him, made him want to gag, and he found himself leaning away from Virus who was still crouched before him. Just like a snake ready to surge forward and land a kill.

“Your answer?”

“Why do you want Aoba? He’s not going to join your piss-ass team.” Noiz was still feigning confidence, even when his life was being shoved down his throat, ready to be set alit.

“That’s confidential, I’m afraid.”

“Bullshit. I’m not telling you anything until you—”

His chin was seized and he felt nails digging at his skin – funny, how the pressure was enough to make him wince even without the pain normal people would feel. His cold, lifeless green eyes remined transfixed to Virus’ and he watched as the maniac reached into his back pocket for something. What surfaced was a scalpel, Noiz assumed, judging by its shape and metallic glint.

“Don’t make me use this. I’m not exactly trained.” There was that sickening smile and Noiz clicked his tongue again. Was he going to get his eye taken out? His tongue? His nose destroyed? He couldn’t even fathom.

“Leave Aoba out of this.”

“Such a pest…” Vrius sighed, though he didn’t look too perturbed, and he brought the tip of the blade to Noiz’s cheek. He cut quickly, with elegance and grace and things a murderer shouldn’t have. It was oddly shaped like a crescent moon, he realized, in the reflection of the scalpel as Virus retracted it.

“Willing to be helpful, now?”

He imagined that knick was going to leave a scar. Oh well. 

Around that time he heard something – something, because he couldn’t quite put words to it. It started with a loud bang, then a thud, then some screams and ended with scrambling of feet. Both Noiz’s and Virus’ attention shifted and members of the yakuza that Noiz didn’t recognize were on the floor, faces bloodied, and eyes empty, lifeless, cold. The whites of their eyes was haunting.

Virus got to his feet, rejoining his brother, and that was around the time Noiz finally managed to get to his feet, too.

The ground was covered in his own blood, he noticed, and it made him feel like throwing up even more. What a mess this all was.

“ _Leave now before I destroy you both_.”

The voice was so low, so deep, that Noiz didn’t recognize it at first. It came from behind him and, as if like puppets, both Virus and Trip obeyed. The morons actually turned on their heels, turned their backs to Noiz, and walked over. Just like that. Just like that through the door as they hadn’t just been about to torture Noiz for crucial information.

“You fucks, come back—” Noiz began in a rare, momentary fit of rage. He wasn’t done with them. He wanted to teach them a lesson and.

“Noiz. Stop.”

The voice had softened, had lost its almighty, ethereal tang. Now, it was that heavy, rough voice he knew all too well. His blood went icy and he looked over his shoulder, dropping his bloody fists to his sides. Aoba’s eyes looked lost, vacant, out of it.

“Aoba…”

Someone Noiz didn’t recognize – he figured it was a member of Dry Juice – had already begun undoing the Ruff Rabbit members, setting them free from their rope-binds. Which left Noiz to only look at his boyfriend, throat dry and knees all of a sudden weak.

How had Aoba done that?

How had he managed to get two nuts, blood-thirsty psychos to leave with a single command?

It baffled and boggled the mind.

“Noiz,” Aoba began again, more light, more life returning to his eyes. In a flurry, he stepped forward and reached out to touch Noiz’s face. For a second, Noiz had forgotten about the deep cut from the scalpel, but when Aoba’s fingertips withdrew, covered in crimson, it was hard to ignore.

“You…” Aoba swallowed, thickly, and he looked away. It was the first time Noiz could recall ever seeing Aoba look guilty. “This is my fault. Shit, I…”

“Aoba.” He was so thankful he was okay, so glad he didn’t have to tell the assholes anything about his precious, precious person.

“We’re going home.”

Aoba’s bloody hand found his equally stained one and the enigmatic Rhymer began to lead Noiz out of the headquarters and back to his – their – apartment.

* * *

“I’m not surprised. They’re friggin’ obsessed with me. I haven’t been talking to them a lot so I guess they got bored.”

Noiz was seated on the bed at its very edge, watching as Aoba dabbed his cheek with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. It didn’t really sting, but the buried concern in Aoba’s eyes was more than enough. He didn’t want to ask how Aoba had been managed to do all of that earlier, but figured that in due time he would be able to find out. Just not now. Not with how worried and worked up Aoba was.

“How do you know them?”

“We go way back. Met at a Rhymer party when I first started. They kept me from overdosing on some bad shit I got from someone. Kinda owe them. I guess.” Aoba shrugged. He grabbed another cotton ball, just to be sure. “They’ve been following me around ever since, saying they’re my biggest fans. Mizuki doesn’t like them.”

“They’re the yakuza,” Noiz said, flatly, as if it was common sense.

“And?”

Good point. Not everyone lived up to their stereotype. Then again, after what had just occurred. “I’m sorry I didn’t wake you up.”

Aoba huffed, nose wrinkled, and dropped the cotton ball. Instead, he placed both his hands squarely on Noiz’s face. He cupped his cheeks and looked him dead in the eyes, unblinking. “I was pissed about that earlier, but I’m just glad you’re alive.”

It warmed him beyond words. Noiz sighed, “How did you know where I was?”

“Your AllMate. I made it track you. Wasn’t hard.”

Noiz was inexplicably happy for the bouncy little cubes. And for Aoba. Mostly for Aoba. He tipped his head closer and pressed his forehead against his boyfriend’s. He could smell the peppermint from earlier and he smiled to himself – the idea of Aoba using his things, wearing his clothes, made him content without even trying. 

“Hey… I haven’t finished your face yet, brat.” He had bandaged up his shoulder with heavy-duty bandages and disinfectant and he had surmised that it wasn’t broken and would heal if Noiz took it easy. 

“It’s fine.” Aoba was about to refute that but Noiz cut him off, “I just want to hold you.”

“Hey…” Aoba’s face turned a beet red and he quickly averted his gaze. “Since when were you a sap?”

Since I met you, was the thought that trickled through Noiz’s mind like water, but he didn’t voice it. Instead, he closed the scant distance between them and locked them into an inviting kiss. Inviting, because he was allowing Aoba to make of it what he would. No alcohol this time, no drugs, no desperate eagerness to get the other to understand. Just an invitation.

Aoba’s breath hitched against Noiz’s lips – he could feel it – and he made a tiny noise of approval. It was a happy hum, so different from his shadowy voice earlier that night. The blue-haired wonder leaned closer and let himself rest up against Noiz. Given how they were arranged, Aoba ended up crawling up onto Noiz’s lap. It was reminiscent, reminded Nioz of the night on the couch when they were both drunk and shared their first kiss in a hazy high.

Aoba’s hands lifted up and threaded back through Noiz’s soft, short hair. His nails lightly scratched against his scalp and his lips parted, pressing just a bit harder against his boyfriend’s. It was as equal of an invitation as Noiz’s was.

Aoba’s tongue tasted sweet, and Noiz could feel the slightest tremble when Noiz’s tongue piercing rubbed against Aoba. Noiz’s arms remained tightly wrapped around his boyfriend’s wrist, kept him on his lap, and kept them both upright, balanced. He figured eventually they’d need to relocate, to switch positions, but for now this was just fine.

Aoba’s lips left Noiz’s but didn’t go far, stamping down along his jaw and then his neck. Such bratty, harsh lips were soft, sweetly soft, and lead a trail of nips and kisses down Noiz’s skin. 

“I want to make you feel. Is that ok?” Aoba whispered, hands gliding down from Noiz’s hair to skim his hips and then make purchase there.

“But I can’t-”

“Let me try.”

Let him try. Noiz’s mind tried to wrap around it. In the end, he conceded and gave a tiny nod, his consent, and watched in subtle wonder as Aoba kissed down his neck, along his collar, and unbuttoned his shirt he had thrown on when they got back. His fingers worked the buttons with a tremble, and Noiz realized Aoba must have been more nervous than he was letting on. It was endearing. And it made him feel happy.

His mouth continued its descent south and kissed along tiny scars on Nioz’s chest, around pert nipples, and then down his stomach. Aoba’s tongue flicked out to dip into his belly button at one point and then opted to nibble at the skin just below it.

Aoba had gotten off his lap and had kneeled beside the bed around that time, hands still clamped to his boyfriend’s hips, thumbs rubbing small circles where they gripped. Noiz’s hands threaded – carefully - into Aoba’s enviable hair and he willed himself to keep his eyes open. He wanted to see this. All of this.

For some reason, Aoba had taken it upon himself to try and use his _teeth_ to undo the loose knot tied in Noiz’s sweats. He managed relatively well and then tugged, hard, down with his teeth, able to get the grey pants down off Noiz’s hips. He nudged them down to his knees and tossed his boyfriend up a twinkling smirk, unable to keep himself from licking his lips.

“So,” Aoba began as he looked down to Noiz’s boxers, “How many?”

“How many what? I haven’t gotten one before.”

“…Wow. I wasn’t asking that, moron, but thanks.” There was an actual smile on Aoba’s lips and he blew down at the tent in Noiz’s boxers. “I was asking how many piercings am I going to see down there?”

“Four. Or three. I guess.”

“You lost count,” Aoba said with a chuckle. Either way, he brought his head down and licked at the raised, clothed tip. “Hot.”

His boxers came off around that time and soon Aoba’s lips were on him. He didn’t remember ever being turned on this easily before, but the wet, enticing warmth of Aoba’s mouth was something he was unused to entirely. Aoba barely had his head in his mouth and he already was panting, lips parted, eyes staring down at his boyfriend like he was a godsend. His hands tightened in Aoba’s hair and he watched in fascination as Aoba licked the underside of the skin he had in his mouth. And then he steeled his jaw and with as much skill as a teenager giving his first blow job could have, he took as much of Noiz in as he could. And maybe it was just because this was Sly Blue, but the minute the back of his throat hit his now painfully hard dick, Noiz was unable to keep himself quiet.

Aoba seemed to be a natural. Either that, or he was exceptionally good at reading his boyfriend’s body language, because his hand dropped down to Noiz’s thighs and snaked its way up to his balls, giving them a firm squeeze. A low noise ripped itself from Noiz’s throat and Aoba quirked a brow. That had done it.

Aoba hooked his index finger along the edge of one of the piercings and gave a tiny tug towards himself. Another loud, elicit noise left Noiz and Aoba did it again, three times, four times, before he began moving his head up and down the length of his boyfriend’s cock.

But then the hot, wet mouth was gone and Aoba was sitting on his haunches smirking like the cocky little brat he really was. Noiz’s eyes fluttered open – when did he close them – and he stared quizzically down at the older.

“What…?” What’s wrong, he wanted to ask but found himself unable of mumbling out the signal syllable.

“Don’t want you havin’ all the fun without me.” Aoba shook his head, the smirk as crafty as ever. He leaned forward on his knees, dangerously close to Noiz’s lips, and purred. Downright _purred_ , “So how about it, huh?”

How about it…

“Why don’t you fuck me till I scream?”

Noiz wasn’t aware he was a fan of talking dirty, so shamelessly dirty, but when it came to Aoba, maybe he had a lot of undiscovered fantasies laying around.

His cock twitched painfully at the mental image of Aoba in his lap, riding him, and he flexed his hands uselessly at his sides. His mouth was dry and he wasn’t sure what to say, what to do.

“Well?” Aoba impatiently shifted up off his knees and hovered over Noiz. “Want to or not?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t hear you,” Aoba taunted, fingertips dropping down to tug on his own shirt teasingly. He lifted it up just a hair, just enough to show an enticing inch of skin, before he looked to Noiz and lifted his right eyebrow. “Be louder.”

“Yeah.”

“Say it.”

Noiz realized he was being baited but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, it spurred him on, out of his daze, and he reached for his boyfriend’s hips. He grabbed them with a painfully tight grip and pulled him close. The pants and the shirt and Aoba’s boxers were soon discarded and it was a damned surprise that Noiz didn’t rip anything in his frantic furry to get Aoba undressed.

It took some effort but Noiz managed to flip their positions and get Aoba laying flat on his bed, completely exposed. It was a beautiful image and in his lusty haze, he admired it. Aoba’s blue hair was splayed everywhere and he had this sort of half smile and half smirk. His eyes were fond and his arms were open, inviting, even as his cock leaked precum from Noiz merely undressing him.

"You're beautiful," Noiz said impulsively as he leaned forward to press a kiss to Aoba's now pouty lips. He stole his breath and then pulled away, watching as Aoba huffed.

"Idiot," Aoba murmured, arms looping around his boyfriend's neck as he tugged him down on top of him. "Do you have any stuff?"

Stuff? Yeah, he had stuff. He kept it around just because - because that's what people are supposed to do and Noiz had always strived to be _normal_ , even if he was far from it. Noiz momentarily rolled off Aoba and reached over to the bedside table. He snagged the tiny bottle of unopened lube and unopened pack of condoms. However, the pack was smacked out of his hand and he looked back to Aoba questioningly.

"This isn't a one-night stand," Aoba deadpanned and he spread his legs a tiny bit, encouragingly, "and I sure as hell don't have anything, and from what I've seen of your dick, you don't either. So we're fine." His gaze darkened, "'sides, I want you to feel this entirely."

That was enough to make Noiz drop the pack entirely and focus instead on the lube.

"Do you even know how to--" Aoba taunted as he watched Noiz with the lube, but apparently he wasn't paying enough attention because while Noiz was fiddling with that, he had smeared some of it onto his fingertip and positioned near Aoba's entrance. "…okay, maybe you do."

"Tch," Noiz responded, his finger not pressing in. He merely kept it there, nudging, applying pressure, watching as Aoba bit down on his bottom lip out of frustration and obvious want.

"Noiz…"

"Hm?"

"Noiz," Aoba said again, this time a bit louder as he shimmied his hips down a tiny bit and onto Noiz's index finger. A pleasant noise escaped Aoba and he tipped his head back. A dirty smirk spread over his face and he parted his lips to let even more lewd noises out. "Jesus that feels good."

Noiz watched Aoba in amusement as Aoba began grinding his hips very slowly onto his finger. The idea that Aoba must have played with himself like this dawned on him and the mental image was insanely tantalizing. Turned on entirely, Noiz added a second finger, this time taking control of the rhythm. He pushed in and twisted and watched Aoba's face for any sign of discomfort. Apparently all that prepping Aoba had done on the sidelines, and all that squirming on his first finger had loosened him enough to enjoy two fingers.

"Aoba," Noiz breathed, watching the way his boyfriend's face contorted in bliss as the two fingers thrust into him deeply. "You're so fucking beautiful."

"S-stop calling me that, brat," Aoba whined, actually whined, and dragged his hands down against the comforter. "S-shit, more, please. Noiz."

Noiz obeyed and added a third finger. It took Aoba a bit longer to adjust, but just like before, he was clumsily grinding down onto Noiz's hand, gasping and sighing and moaning and making Noiz a hot mess without even trying.

"Mm, fuck… yeah, your dick is gonna feel great," Aoba breathed out, looking up at Noiz through sweat-drenched bangs. 

It was the hottest thing Noiz had ever seen. The image went straight to his already hard dick and he couldn't resist fisting himself with his free hand, roughly pumping up and down his shaft in time with his finger thrusting inside of Aoba.

"Mm, god… I could come like this," Aoba moaned, fingers curling as he sensually, slowly, grinded in time with Noiz's thrusts.

"But do you want to?" Noiz breathed out choppily, willing himself to let go of his own dick. He really didn't need to come right now, either, and he removed his fingers from inside of Aoba.

Aoba felt strangely empty. Sure, the fingers had felt weird, too, and the lube had felt cold and oozy, but the fact that something warm was no longer inside of him made him irritated and tense.

"Noiz," Aoba whined impatiently, leaning forward to kiss his boyfriend's forehead. "Please?"

"Are you--"

"Oh my fucking god," Aoba said, and apparently fed up, straddled Noiz's hips and lowered himself down agonizingly slow onto his boyfriend's hard, pierced dick. Their breathes hitched together and Aoba clutched tightly onto Noiz's shoulder for support, holding himself up so he wouldn't impale himself fully. Not quite yet.

Noiz was having a horrible time not thrusting straight up into Aoba. It was hot, it was tight, and it made him feel alive, even more than Aoba usually managed to do. His breathing grew shallow and he hugged Aoba tightly, chin coming up to rest on his boyfriend's shoulder.

"You're…much bigger than your hands, you know that, brat?" Aoba said, trying to laugh, as he bit down on his bottom lip to keep himself steady. He needed to adjust a second longer, get used to the full feeling, to the slight burning. He wasn't afraid of the pain but he wanted it to feel just as good as the fingers had.

"Thanks," Noiz murmured. His voice trailed off into a whine and he panted near Aoba's ear, "Liebling, move."

"Lie… what?" Aoba tried to repeat the word but decided right now wasn't a good time. He knew what Noiz wanted. Carefully, Aoba lowered himself all the way down and took in a deep breath.

There. He was fully seated on Noiz's dick.

"Oi… you're so tight," Noiz muttered through gritted teeth, face flushed, hot. His hands clung even tighter to his boyfriend and there was a heavy, heavy tremble that surged through him. 

"Yeah…? Well you're really fucking big, so guess we're even, huh?" Aoba managed, taking tiny breaths in between his words, as he kept himself steady, trying to get used to the entirety of Noiz inside of him. Actually _connected_ like this, like one entity and all the ways those cheesy books would explain.

"Hm…that sounds nice. Keep saying that," Noiz chuckled, barely. 

"Shut up and fuck me," Aoba whined, realizing he had been stroking his boyfriend's ego moments prior. Oh well.

The dirty talk, the insistence, was definitely what Noiz needed. Without any more baiting, he rolled his hips up and into the tight, delicious heat. It felt good, felt awesome, having Aoba's body tightening around him as he thrust in and out, never fully pulling out of him.

Along the way, he angled his body enough so he was thrusting just right, because Aoba's breathing hitched and he began crying out in pleasure. That crying turned into moaning of Noiz's name and Aoba soon began rolling his hips down on Noiz, meeting his thrusts, trying to get him to go deeper, hit that spot harder.

"Brat… please," Aoba begged, clutching on tight as he sped up, still not satisfied with how he was riding his boyfriend's dick. "I need more."

"You're so beautiful," Noiz whispered, in his own little world, as he kept pivoting his hips up. His right hand finally flew away from Aoba's shoulders and found his boyfriend's painfully hard cock. And he began pumping it in time with his thrusting.

"Fuck _yeah_ … Noiz…" Aoba whined as he threw his head back and bobbed his body up and down, faster and faster. 

Needless to say it didn't take long until he came, splattering both his own and Noiz's chests with cum. Noiz followed suit shortly after, quickening his thrusts. The tightening of Aoba's body around his cock post-orgasm made the pressure on his dick so strong, so intense, that he was unable to hold it back. He had planned on pulling out before coming, but apparently that was no longer an option. He didn't think Aoba minded.

Seconds turned into minutes and Aoba finally lifted his hips up and off Noiz's cock, settling back down in his lap. He wrinkled his nose at the sensation of wet, now cooling cum leaking out of him and he buried his face down into Noiz's shoulder.

"That was…" Noiz began, still trying to catch his breath as he clung on to Aoba for dear life. _I felt alive_.

"Fucking awesome," Aoba finished for him, sounding tired, as he placed a lazy kiss to the shoulder he was nuzzling. "But can we not… do that again for like a few days? My ass is already sore."

Noiz laughed. Genuinely laughed.

And it was so beautiful to Aoba's ears that he almost cried, almost leaked out tears of happiness, and he hugged Noiz tighter, so thankful the other couldn't see his face. 

Things would be okay, he reassured himself, smile hidden from the world.

Things would be okay as long as Noiz was his and he was Noiz's. The world around them could crash, could burn, and he'd be fine.

All he wanted was his stupid blonde brat.

All he needed.

Happiness makes us careless, they say, and happiness makes us oblivious to the dangers around us. Because happiness tends to consume us, and in this moment of utter bliss, still in the relationship honeymoon phase, Aoba forgot all about the yazuka he had scared off, who had nearly cut Noiz open.

Happiness was the culprit.

And happiness would be what would separate them after it took so long to crash together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave your thoughts please and thank you?!  
> i was nervous going through with the idea of this chapter, both the twins and the sex scene.  
> so yeah.  
> taking requests over [here on tumblr](http://quietmylove.tumblr.com/)!!!


	8. part one: finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IN WHICH I AM SADISTIC and i finally update this story to start PART TWO. THIS ENDS PART ONE.  
> PART ONE IS OVER.  
> yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been postponing writing this because it’s going to break my fragile heart (and lawschool. mostly law school. which my first exam is in nine hours, so there's THAT?!)
> 
> I’m sorry, first and foremost.
> 
> And secondly, enjoy.

* * *

Sly had said it perfectly one morning in the middle of a particularly rough round: rabbits had nothing on them.  
It was as if a dam had broken, as if they had a limited time left on Earth, as if they’d never see each other again. Which, perhaps, was true, but at that time, neither of them were the wiser –at least, openly. But for that brief span of a couple of weeks, their hands were almost always located on one another. Brief touches out on the town, heavy touches behind closed doors, and lips that barely ever separated. It was as if neither of them had ever had sex before in their lives. They were _insatiable_.

Noiz would sometimes drag Sly onto his lap during movies, hands roaming up along his thighs. Rough fingers would map out shapes on the tight denim and Sly would start squirming, feigning boredom as he bit down on his bottom lip to refrain from moaning. Sly would act tough, act composed, but the minute Noiz's hand slipped beneath the tight band of his boxers, Sly would lose control. For the first and only times in his teenaged life, he let someone else wreck him. And he loved every second of it.

Sly never got intensely emotional during any bouts, but when they were done, sometimes, just _sometimes_ , he would lay beside Noiz and reach out to take his hand, never saying a single word. Sly would hold on loosely, not even bothering to lace their fingers together. He would hold on as if his life depended on it and as if it didn't matter to him at the same time. It was a beautiful paradox.  
Noiz would always, _always_ use his free hand to card his fingers through Sly's sex-tangled hair. Sometimes Sly would bitch about the pain but other times he'd let loose a quiet sigh and scoot closer. Sometimes, he'd shut his eyes and fall asleep, lulled by the surprisingly gentle action. And it wasn't like Noiz's hands were soft but rather that Noiz was such a rough guy that such a gentle act was unfathomable.  
It was nearly perfect.

* * *

` hey. gonna meet up with the guys at black needle. be there @ 7 ok? wanna introduce you as my boyfriend to some people. `

` oh yea? sly blue getting sentimental? gonna break that reputation. ```

` screw that. have you now. `

It was the single most intimate thing Sly had ever said to him, even after the three weeks of dating. Noiz's gaze remained locked on his screen, unable to pry himself from it for even a second. It was as if he looked away, even for a moment, the message would disappear. That it wouldn't be reality.  
Noiz nearly input the wrong data into the program he was revamping. One of his guys looked over when he heard the muttered German curse and the repeated tapping of the backspace button.

"You ok, boss?"

"Tch."

* * *

Six came around faster than Noiz anticipated. Rather, he was in the midst of debugging a failed code when his Coil buzzed with a preset alarm. In efforts to turn it off, he caught sight of a missed text message from Sly. Apparently seven at the Black Needle meant that Sly and his friends were going to start drinking before that and Noiz could show up when they were effectively sloshed out of their minds.

` fuck. c 1ant fxcking believe fell 4 a ge4man dude. `

Despite the riddling of typos, the message made him take pause. Enough of a pause, even, that he nearly missed the incoming call from that Mizuki guy. He answered, ignoring the fact that he never gave Mizuki his number.

“What?”

It wasn’t necessarily a greeting nor was it outright rude. 

“Oh god, shit, thank god you answered—“ Mizuki sounded out of breath, his voice disjointed and labored, “Have you—You haven’t seen Aoba, right?—Crap, he isn’t answering and those trashy yazuka guys were—Noiz, where are you?”

His gut reaction was to respond dismissively, tell him it was none of his business, but the last bit of Mizuki’s ramble tripped him up. His only reaction, then, was to blink repeatedly at the air.

“He texted me earlier.”

“Yeah? When?”

“Don’t know. Fifty minutes ago? I wasn’t looking at my Coil.” He spoke stiffly, the edge of uncertainty clinging to his words nearly threatening to drip off.

“He’s not answering my calls. Gonna try and call him again. Lemme know if you hear from him?” The desperation in Mizuki’s voice wrenched something deep inside Noiz. It wasn’t anything he was particularly used to nor was particularly fond of. 

The Coil conversation ended. Naturally, Noiz attempted to dial up Aoba. When that didn’t work, he tried again. And again. Really, the efforts were fruitless and after the fifth try Noiz ended up slamming his Coil down against the table, nearly slamming it into his laptop causing even further damage. 

It was an alien feeling, worrying about someone else so deeply that it was as if his own personal safety was at stake. Somehow, someway – and Noiz suspected he knew deep down when it happened– Aoba had managed to snake his way into his thoughts, his mind, and rev up any remnants of emotions he had left. Somehow, he had grown attached. 

Aoba still wasn’t answering his texts, wasn’t answering his calls. The likely answer was that Aoba had too much to drink and was stumbling around somewhere, unable to use his Coil.

Although it made sense that Mizuki had called from the Black Needle, Noiz’s first instinct was to head there. Because that was where they had planned to meet up, and somewhere in Noiz’s mind, that made the most sense. For some reason, even if Aoba was drunk out of his mind, he’d _be there_ , because he promised Noiz—

Because he promised his boyfriend and he “fell for a German guy”, right?

* * *

“I’m just glad he’s alive. Mm. The boy’s been through so much as it is. I was worried this might just be the end of it all.”

A solemn expression overtook the wise face of Tae. Her hands, wrinkled and marred with tales of experience, sat in her lap, laced. Noiz sat across from her, looking and acting considerably younger. Instead of a look of reservation he instead wore one of absolute bewilderment. It wasn’t a typical look of confusion. Rather, it was the face of someone who had never truly experienced grief before – or, somewhere along the way, forgot how to properly acknowledge and experience it.

Noiz wet his lips and then clicked his tongue. That was it. He said nothing and instead flicked his gaze over to the closed hospital door marked with a tilted sign that read, “23”. His stomach churned.

“They told me that he would be fine and recover in no time,” Tae mused, eyes shut as she hummed out the words, as if deliberating on the truth of them. “I haven’t spoken to him, yet.”

Noiz remained silent and shifted, the edge of his shoe dragging across the _too_ sterile tile on the floor below him. 

“He doesn’t remember how he ended up here,” Tae continued, her words slowing as she finally got to the point. “Mizuki told me that you boys had been out drinking and that Aoba disappeared. My first thought was, ‘The boy is always up to no good’, but when Aoba wouldn’t answer my calls, I got concerned. I called around and someone said they last saw him in the Old District, beaten up badly. They said an ambulance was rushing in that direction.”

It was strange to hear the usually stoic old woman say so much. Noiz has misjudged her after the first meeting, assuming she was cold and overprotective. But, in this new light, in the light of the circumstances themselves, Noiz envied Aoba for having her. She was warm, she was caring, she was wise even beyond her many years and she had an undying love for her grandson that Noiz never quite ever had from anyone.

He lowered his gaze.

“You’re welcomed to come in with me when they allow visitors, Noiz,” Tae began, opening her eyes and looking pointedly over at the young man. “I’m quite aware that you mean a great deal to my grandson, whether he knows it or not. He may not be a sterling judge of character all the time, but…” She trailed off, a tiny, wry smile appearing. “This time, I think he finally smartened up.”

Noiz wasn’t sure what to say. His mind was in a whirlwind. Hours before he had been messing around with Aoba. Hours before he had been getting drunk texts from his boyfriend and had been on the edge of maybe falling in love. Hours before things had been fine. But now, here he was, in a hospital, a place he _despised_ because of what _they_ did to him – a place that made him tense and shudder and anxious the entire visit. Here he was, waiting outside his boyfriend’s hospital room, without a single clue. Here he was with the most important person in his life’s grandmother. And she was accepting him.

It was too much emotion at once.

Noiz arose from his seat, cracked both his knuckles and neck, and avoided Tae’s meaningful stare. “…Water,” he murmured as he excued himself down the hallway.

When he reached the water fountain, his first instinct was to punch it. So he did. Unable to cope with these all these raw emotions that he had for so long ignored, neglected, his first gut reaction was to get violent. And since he couldn’t exactly start beating someone up in a hospital, a well-aimed punch at a poor water fountain was the next best thing.

It didn’t hurt. It never did. He wasn’t even really sure what he thought he’d accomplish by hitting the metal. 

The point of the matter was that he had failed Aoba. He had been unable to protect the one person that mattered. He had been unable to keep someone safe that meant more to him than even his own life. Even if he tried to ignore feelings, emotions, and especially getting sappy around Aoba, it was undeniable – he was attached for good. 

And he almost lost him.

It was a grim reminder of the morality of humans and that even if he himself didn’t feel pain, most people did, and just because _he_ didn’t feel it didn’t mean he couldn’t die, either. Which was funny, since for so long he had wished nothing more than blissful death on himself, back cooped up in a stifling room in Germany.

“Noiz?”

Noiz took a side-long glance over his shoulder. Expectedly, there stood Mizuki, shaken up and definitely now sober. The tattoo-artist quickly looked away and began fiddling with his hands, eyes hidden behind his bangs. He looked nervous. Noiz didn’t blame him.

“Yo.” 

Noiz didn’t say anything beyond that. He figured the invitation was on the table, so Noiz headed over to the Ribster and stood there, blinking and silent. 

“Did you – Did Tae say how he is?” Mizuki asked after a pregnant pause. The question was coupled with an audible swallow.

“Not really. He’s alive,” Noiz deadpanned and turned away, as if to end the conversation.

“Wait.” Mizuki reached out, fingers going for the other’s wrist.

Expectedly, Noiz flinched and completely recoiled. There was a look of danger in his eyes for a split second, as if he was about to strike at Mizuki for catching him off guard, but it never came. The fire died down and Noiz stared impassively yet again at the other.

“What?”

He didn’t sound too interested, but he asked anyway.

“There’s something you need to know before you see him.”

* * *

Tae left the room, neither pleased nor upset. On her way out, she merely motioned for Noiz to head inside, leaving her grandson and Noiz alone if he so wished to finally enter the room. Noiz hesitated but headed inside nonetheless, Mizuki’s words buzzing in his head.

_Whatever got him into this mess… I want you to know it wasn’t his fault. Not this time. Aoba’s dumb. I mean, he’s a smart kid and he’s probably brilliant – we all know that. But he makes stupid mistakes. A lot. Especially before either of us met him. Lately he’s… been smartening up, you know? I think you have a lot to do with that. I don’t want to pretend I understand what’s going on with you two, because I really don’t get it at all, but …thanks. I wanted to thank you for caring about Aoba. He’s my friend, above all else, and I worry about him. Knowing that he has someone like you, that he genuinely seems to care about… It’s nice. So thanks. Thanks, and I want you to know that he didn’t end up in this hospital because of his stupidity for once, because you’ve been the reason his bruises are finally going away. _This_ had to have been something bigger, something out of Aoba’s control._

Noiz had some sneaking suspicions – mostly involving two blonde hair twin morons – but he wasn’t quite ready to pursue that avenue yet. His team wasn’t strong enough and there had recently been some modifications in their programs. He wasn’t ready for an all-out war with these supposed yazuka. Not yet.

Besides, all that mattered right now was his ball of fluffy blue rage that had dug so deep into his heart that it was pretty hilarious to reflect on.

Noiz closed the door behind him and respectfully took off his beanie. Aoba had scolded him once for wearing it out to dinner at a “semi-decent” restaurant. At first Aoba had been joking, but Noiz had taken it in stride. There was a kernel to truth to every joke, after all. Or so they say.

“Mm?”

Noiz perked up when he heard the softest sound come from sleeping beauty. Noiz wrinkled his nose and headed over to the chair beside Aoba’s bedside and took a seat. He didn’t want to interrupt any dreams Aoba was having – he knew how hard it was for the both of them to sweetly dream nowadays with such dark pasts.

“My neck hurts…” Aoba mumbled.

It was sweet. It was perfectly Aoba-like to start complaining the moment he came back from the dark. Noiz chuckled and he cocked his head to the side, eyes sparkling with renewed vigor. 

“Oi. Maybe if you had answered your Coil your neck wouldn’t hurt,” Noiz joked, a smirk playing at his lips.

It was short-lived. Even more short-lived than the fleeting thought of, “I’m in love” when he saw Aoba laying there in the sunlight, innocently and perfectly and such a tragic mess and everything Noiz ever could conceivably ever want.

It was short-lived because when Aoba’s eyes blinked open to stare over at Noiz, they weren’t gold. They were a warm, honey-brown. They were distant and while soft, totally spacey and lacking any mischievous twinkle. They were absent.

“My Coil?” Aoba repeated. His voice was different, too, now that he wasn’t mumbling into a pillow. His voice didn’t have that dangerous edge to it, nor that husky undertone. It was just… normal. It was basic. It was ..

“Mm.”

“Are you--?”

It was pretty self-explanatory, but Noiz’s mind wasn’t hardwired like most people. So he didn’t stop while he was ahead. Instead, he blinked and tilted his head even further. And just made it worse.

“Oi. I was looking forward to last night. I guess you’ll have to make it up to me later.” Despite the teasing intonation, it was guarded, careful, and Noiz licked is bottom lip absently as he said it.

“I? Excuse me? I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Sly Blue was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which noiz meets aoba, mizuki yells at noiz, and sly may not be dead. not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm BACK!!!!!  
> im so excited to be writing this again. i just got done with spring break and managed to get enough time to throw this up before legislation class tomorrow!!!!
> 
> ALSO IM GONNA BE AT ANIME BOSTON if anyone is interested in meeting up or being dorks.  
> i'm going as THE SLY BLUE so yeah.  
> there's that.  
> hollah at me.

`

fuck. c 1ant fxcking believe fell 4 a ge4man dude.

`

_Tch. Did you really think this would work?_

_You’re pathetic._

_What a monster._

_No one could ever love you._

_He **never loved you**. Never even liked you._

_You’re a fool for ever thinking otherwise._

Noiz dug his nails - blunt, now, from how many times he had punched the wall in his living room - against the bruised skin of his palm. There were bandages wrapped tightly around his hands in a futile attempt to prevent scarring and additional bleeding. His hands had always been fucked up, anyway. This wasn’t making it any worse.

There was a low _thum thum thum_ coming from down the hall, back in the bedroom he had been avoiding like the plague for the past week. It probably still smelt like _him_. It was safer to avoid it entirely and maybe when he was drunk douse it in oil and light it ablaze. Apartment insurance worked like that, right? He’d just pay off anyone that suspected larceny. 

For the fifth time that night, his phone buzzed. Noiz didn’t need to look to know who it was: Mizuki. Sly’s friend had been blowing up his phone ever since Noiz left the hospital a week ago. Apparently it had spread like wildfire that Sly’s memory was gone - or, at least, of Noiz - and what now stood in Sly Blue’s shoes was a sickeningly sweet smiling nitwit. 

It probably wasn’t that bad, but Noiz was fatalistic sometimes. It was safer to have the lowest of expectations. People hurt you less that way.

_Just answer it and tell him to fuck off._

The phone started to ring again. With a sigh, Noiz stretched his arm off the couch, snatched his coil, and pressed play.

“What.”

“Thank god you answered, man, I’ve been trying—”

“I know,” Noiz said in deadpan, eyebrows wrinkling into a thin line as he stared up at the ceiling. 

“Listen, about Aoba…”

“No.” He should have ignored the call, he should have just kept ignoring all of Mizuki’s desperate attempts to reach him. Hell, he should have changed his Coil information.

“He’s been asking about you.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”

“Noiz….” Muzak sighed languidly on the other end. There was the sound of rustling, a dog barking, and then Mizuki cleared his throat. “Listen. I’m not going to pretend I know you, or what you and Aoba went through the past few months but just— Just at least hear him out? He thinks he did something horrible and he won’t stop moping around. Tae said he won’t even eat.”

“Good for him,” Noiz said apathetically, clicking his tongue. His eyes shut accordingly and he tried to block out the world, hide from the world, and maybe that little room in Germany didn’t seem as bad as this. _People_ were dangerous and his parents maybe were right for hiding him away.

“Asshole, listen—”

Noiz imagined Mizuki wasn’t much the type to swear, not from what he had seen thus far from the artist, but… “I’m hanging up.”

“Ah, Noiz?”

Noiz’s thumb hovered over the ‘end call’ button just around the time his blood ran cold. Or at least, he imagined that’s what it felt like for normal people that were capable of _feeling_ to begin with. His breath caught and it took everything in him not to respond automatically. A few deep, calculated breaths later and it dawned on him that Mizuki had put Aoba on the phone as a last ditch effort. What a _prick_.

“Don’t call me that - that guy told you it. You don’t even know it.”

There was stifling silence for a moment, the sound of static of a bad connection or maybe just a shitty Coil, and then, “Hey, I knew it at one point! Don’t give me that.”

Despite his best efforts, Noiz’s lips quirked into the tinniest of snickers. “Yeah? Says who, the amnesiac?”

“Hey now… I can’t control that,” Aoba said, sounding _defeated_ , which initself was bizarre and Noiz fully expected a ‘Fuck you’, but it never came. Instead, “Listen. I know _something_ happened between us, ok. I don’t know how good of friends we were or whatever, but Mizuki and Granny kept mentioning your name and if I had heard from you and you looked pretty pissed off that I didn’t recognize you so… I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I don’t remember you, but-”

“I don’t need your sympathy.”

“It’s not—!” Aoba began, sounding annoyed and exhausted and shades of blue were mingled in there for a split second. And then they were gone as Aoba began, softly this time, “Can we at least meet? For lunch, maybe? You like ramen, right?”

“Never had it.”

“Wha… seriously? You’ve never had ramen, Noiz?” There was amazement and then a laugh that sounded like bells and Noiz found himself sitting upright on his couch, clutching his Coil for dear life. “I thought you liked noodles, nerd. It’s the best type of noodle around.”

For a moment Noiz was _convinced_ he was speaking with Sly, not this strange shadow of him, but… “Then show me.” He agreed before he had a second thought on the matter, because if it _was Sly asking him_ , he’d give in in a heartbeat.

“Really? Well, ok, yeah. I’ll show you. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Tch… I guess.”

Noiz bit back the bile and excitement that had decided to play havoc in his stomach. His eyes screwed shut and he laid back down, reaching up with his free hand to massage his temples. It wasn’t like he knew what a headache truly was, but he imagined it felt quite like this. Pin pricks and agony and disdain. 

“So, tomorrow. Noon. I’ll come by your place.”

“Do you even know where that is.”

“I’ll ask Mizuki,” Aoba said in a huff.

“He doesn’t know.”

“I’ll ask Granny, then.”

“She doesn’t know, either.”

“Okay, brat, then I’ll figure it out myself.”

Noiz bit back a chuckle at how stubbornly adamant Aoba was being. It wasn’t exactly like Sly and his tendency to get belligerent, but it was rather endearing. Cute, in an absurd way. Noiz, just for that second, let himself be lulled by the sound of Aoba’s voice.

“Mm. Good luck with that. How long until I send out a search party?”

“Brat…! Ugh. I’ll be there around noon, ok? I’ll figure it out,” Aoba reassured him.

“…’kay.”

“Ok.”

There was another awkward bout of silence and Noiz felt himself clutching onto the Coil even harder. His heart picked up, just a tiny bit, and there was an oddly disconcerting amount of sweat collecting on his palms. Was this a - date?

“Goodnight, Noiz,” Aoba said, far too gently and far too much like a lover that Noiz once knew. 

Noiz swallowed down every regret, every hope, and muttered a quick, “Night” and hung up before his emotions could betray him. 

`

fuck. c 1ant fxcking believe fell 4 a ge4man dude.

`

He fell asleep staring at the text.

* * *

“You actually found it.”

There Aoba was, at his doorstep, bag slung over his shoulder with a familiar ball of blue. Noiz was hit with chronic nostalgia, recalling the time that Sly had bust in at an ungodly hour, pissed off beyond belief that Noiz had installed a tracking device. However, this time with Aoba at his door, he looked far gentler, far less peeved, and _far more vulnerable_. Noiz wasn’t sure he was too keen on the look… or rather, the idea that he’d possibly be asked to reciprocate.

“Ren had it stored. Guess I really did come over here a lot, huh?” Aoba asked, awkward laugh ensuing, as he played with the strap of his bag.

Noiz fought back the urge to smack his own forehead with his palm. “Tch. Yeah. So. Food?”

“You’re going like that?”

Noiz blinked once, twice, thrice, before he realized what Aoba was talking about. In efforts to ignore the funny feeling in his stomach all morning, and how tired he was from not sleeping because all he could do was think about _Sly_ , Noiz had forgotten to change. There he stood, clad in dark black sweats with neon green rabbits all over them, matched with a form-fitting black tank. 

“What? Embarrassed to be around me? Or is it too much for you to resist?” Noiz deadpanned, clicking his tongue.

Aoba’s face ran through a myriad of colors before it settled on bright pink. As expected, Aoba surged forward and gently reached for Noiz’s tank. Aoba gripped it tightly in his fist and looked squarely up at Noiz, pretty golden eyes a softer brown than Noiz remembered.

“Hey now, brat. I don’t know what we did in the past, but I’m not like that, ok? I barely know you.” The blush didn’t help Aoba’s cause. “Besides…we’re getting lunch, remember?”

“Ah. So not into public displays of lust. ‘kay,” Noiz said, a smirk forming as he reached up to swat Aoba’s hand away. However, the gentle brush of skin, however much of it Noiz could feel, spurred his stomach to recreate that funny feeling from earlier that morning. Noiz swallowed hard.

Aoba must have noticed it, too, because he turned even redder and hollered, “Go get changed, brat!”

It was a start.

* * *

“It’s salty…”

“Yeah. It’s ramen.”

Aoba wore the biggest grin to ever grace this side of the globe as he sat across from Noiz. Aoba had decided to take them out to this tiny place near Noiz’s apartment and had demanded that he pay because it was the least he could do. And now Noiz, begrudgingly eating, couldn’t help but marvel at how bright the world seemed with Aoba _smiling like that_.

“That’s why you usually get things in it - you know, like vegetables or meat, so it isn’t as salty,” Aoba explained. “A lot of people put steak in it so it cuts down on the salt,” he continued, head cocked to the side. “I personally like fish, but y’know. Not everyone’s fancy or whatever.”

“I know. You like salmon.”

“…Yeah.” Aoba blinked. He hadn’t ordered salmon - in fact, he had went with the pork ramen - so the tidbit of personal information caught him off guard. However, he seemed to remind himself that he and Noiz _had_ known each other. 

“Oi.”

Aoba was snatched out of his reveries when a chopstick poked his nose. “Noiz, stop—! That’s not sanitary.”

“I’ve sucked your tongue. I think I’m okay with your germs.”

“I…” Aoba flushed a deep red and he dropped his own chopsticks. “Hey…!”

“I know. You’re not that kind of person,” Noiz said, almost mockingly and almost definitely quoting Aoba from earlier.

“Mrph…” Aoba sighed and recollected his chopsticks and tried to resume eating. Apparently, though, curiosity got the better of him and he shyly looked back up from behind his fringe of blue bangs. “So we made-out, huh? I heard I was kinda a slut for awhile.”

Noiz frowned. “I guess.”

“You guess.” Aoba frowned. “Are you ever going to answer my questions?”

“One day.” Noiz shrugged, noncommittally.

So they ate.

* * *

`wanna meet up for video games :)?`

` only if you stop with the smiles`

` but noiz :( is that a yes? `

` whatever. sure`

* * *

`noiz. hey. food now? `

`yes your majesty. careful, though.`

`eh? about what?`

`keep hanging out with me this much and people are going to think we’re dating`

` gtfo. just get over here so we can eat`

` kay `

* * *

` hey noiz?`

` it’s three in the morning.`

` i know. `

` what? `

` … nevermind. goodnight. `

` goodnight `

* * *

“This is dumb.”

Aoba rolled his eyes and dragged Noiz closer to the edge of the roof. Once there, the blue-haired moron plopped down and swung his legs off the edge. He turned back to smile at the blonde, eyes gleaming in the darkness of the night, the lights of the nearby city buildings being the only source of light for miles. Noiz met his eyes for a brief second, looked away, and headed over to join Aoba’s side. 

“I used to go out on my balcony a lot and stare at the sky and think,” Aoba explained, eyes closing.

It had been two weeks of getting to know _this_ Aoba, and three weeks since he lost _Sly_. This Aoba was adamant on teaching Noiz all about food, all about what he used to do as a child, and all about these weird video games even _Noiz_ hadn’t played before. This Aoba was an open-book, and yet… and yet he was guarded, somehow. He still had those walls that Sly had, despite how often Aoba would pour over information. Sure, Aoba had divulged what his favorite food was, color was, his favorite temperature, his favorite book, how he liked his coffee (most of all Noiz knew already), but.. But there was still hesitance, the same hesitance Sly would have about anything _overtly_ personal.

“Think? You?” Noiz closed his eyes, smirk covering half his face.

“Brat,” Aoba muttered, gently nudging Noiz’s shoulder with his own. “As I was saying, I would sit outside and think a lot.”

Noiz knew well enough, surprisingly, when he was being baited. “About?”

“Why my parents weren’t coming back.”

There was a heavy silence. Noiz felt like one of those criminals in a movie, caught dead in the act of infiltrating some secret base. He didn’t belong here. He was intruding on the secret palace of Aoba - Sly’s - heart and he just wasn’t _allowed here_. Noiz made a move to stand but Aoba reached out and slammed his hand down atop of Noiz’s. He didn’t make a move to interlace them, nor did he even try to hold Noiz’s studded and bandaged poor-excuse of a hand. All Aoba did was sigh.

“I—”

“You didn’t tell me any of this. You don’t _need_ to tell me this. We,” Noiz began, defensively, sharply, feeling like he needed to _get out now_ before Aoba misconstrued this entire thing, before he started giving him _pity_ again.

“I don’t care. _I_ , the me right now, _want_ to tell you.”

Noiz wrinkled his nose. “I don’t understand.”

“I get it. I won’t remember whatever happened before this, but that’s fine. Because we’re friends now, right? I don’t mind. And I feel like I can trust you, even after a couple of weeks. So I want to tell you this. It feels right.”

“…That’s so gay,” Noiz murmured, smiling just a bit when Aoba rolled his eyes. But he relaxed and made no efforts to get up and leave again.

So Aoba told him about his parents. About how they left, about how he cried because he just didn’t understand, why he still doesn’t understand. And Noiz listened. Noiz sat there, trying to put all the puzzle pieces together. Parts of Sly came through, the parts that were beginning to make sense, the parts that had made Sly so prickly that Noiz never understood. It was all starting to click, which was a marvel in itself given Noiz’s inability to _get_ people.

“So… that’s that.” Aoba sucked in a deep breath, as if he had just gotten the largest weight off his chest in the world.

Noiz’s first reaction was to respond blandly with, ‘cool story, bro’, but figured, unlike Sly, Aoba wouldn’t appreciate it. So, instead, he reached into his pocket, took out a cigarette and held it to Aoba’s pursed lips.

“Wanna share?”

At first, Aoba looked entirely offended, as if offering him a cigarette was the end of the world, but then there was something nostalgic, melancholic, and Aoba averted his gaze. But he held the cigarette to his lips, long bangs hiding how expressive his eyes truly were in that moment, and scoffed. “…Well, are you gonna light it or not, brat?”

Maybe Sly was somewhere, deep down, just begging to be set free.

Somehow. Maybe. Somewhere.

_Because you love him, you moron. You love Sly._

And he did.


End file.
